


Hush, hush.

by inthedarkestlight



Series: FJB [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Draco Malfoy - Freeform, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Forsythia Abney, Forsythia Black, M/M, Multi, OC, Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, alt universe, mentions of wolfstar, ooc draco, vampire
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-02
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:21:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 24
Words: 129,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthedarkestlight/pseuds/inthedarkestlight
Summary: Forsythia Abney hasn't bothered with the wizarding world in years. She did her best to keep under the radar, concealing her wand and her status as a vampire as much as possible.However, when Death Eaters trap and extract her, she must gain their trust in order to escape. Complications arise when she's assigned to Draco Malfoy, a high ranking general in Voldemort's army, and is forced to become an interrogation weapon. After saving Draco's life , things only get more complicated as their blood bond becomes stronger.How will she escape if he starts to mean more to her than she planned?-AU where the Battle of Hogwarts hasn't taken place yet but it's been three years since Harry disappeared searching for horcruxes. Voldemort is utilizing dark creatures as means for torture during interrogations. Also, Forsythia, though a Black, is in NO WAY related to the Malfoy's. This is not that kind of fic lol-
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & OC, Draco/OC, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Series: FJB [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2194956





	1. Chapter 1

The air was still. Forsythia opened her eyes, blinking away whatever stunning spell had been used on her. One moment she was leaning over the woman’s body for a late night snack, the next she was here. Where ever here was. 

Confusion and fear bubbled in her belly as she tried to move. Her body felt heavy and achy, as if she’d been lying in the same position for too long. Then again, she couldn’t recall the last time she’d been uncomfortable from being in any position. Despite this, she felt her muscles tense, waiting for an attack. Surely she was still at the end of the alley? Maybe somebody else had come along to steal a bite as well. 

Slowly, her muscles and body relaxed again. There was nobody near her. All she could smell was the powdery scent of freshly cut stone and her own fear; hot in the air like fireworks. Alongside her fear there was a hint of burning wood, but it was so faint she didn’t pay it much mind. There were no sounds, either, only her quick pants to taste the air. With nobody around, she relaxed further and tried to collect herself through the fog in her mind. 

Even though the only light came from a wavering flame somewhere far out of sight, she could make out the details of the room she was in. Three walls were made of stone that vibrated when she carefully touched the closest one with the back of her finger, the fourth a network of latticed, seemingly silver, bars. If she focused, she could see odd markings in them glittering, almost, in the dancing light. If they were in fact silver, she knew not to try to touch them. Even without whatever runes were inscribed in them, the silver itself would burn her if she tried. 

She swore to herself, clicked her tongue, and attempted to stand. Once her feet were flat on the stone floor, however, she crumpled forward into a heap and blinked again now that her cheek was against the cool stone. 

“Did you really just try to get up?” 

A strong smell of wet trees wafted over her, lighting a new fire in her. Forsythia managed to push herself up onto her hands enough to see that a man had appeared in front of her bars. She could only blink at his shiny boots. 

“It took six stunners to take you down and you’ve only been out for two hours. I’ll bet my nicest ring you won’t be able to stand for at least a day.” 

His voice was a deep drawl, the edges of his words turned down in disgust as he regarded her. Forsythia’s jaw set. Carefully, and with as much strength as she could muster given her weakened state, she forced her arms to lift her further until she was able to awkwardly get her feet flat and under her body once more. 

She didn’t know if he could enter through the bars, but seeing as he hadn’t moved any closer, she felt a little surge of confidence. If she was untouchable, at least for a moment, she couldn’t show any weakness. Stunners wearing off or not. She was a predator, and she needed to act like it. 

As she willed herself to stand, being fueled by spite alone, the man scoffed at her. Now that she was up, though hunched forward greatly, she could see his face. 

Normally, Forsythia was not interested in humans, particularly not human men. They were usually cruel and took too much energy to take down physically for her. Instead, her normal prey tended to be women, or children if she really ran out of options. In her personal opinion, she was much more merciful than others of her kind. At least she let them live. Once they were obliviated, of course, but her wand was a point of contention with others like her so she kept that part hidden. She kept a lot of herself hidden. 

The man’s face was harsh in the dimness; his features strong and sharp. His nose was long and straight, though a particularly striking silvery scar stretched over the bridge. She could see more on his neck, though those disappeared under the high collar that cut off any view of the rest of his skin. The robes he wore were black, and she watched, cold fear seeping through her more forcefully, as he shifted. Strapped to his forearm, she saw a wand. 

Almost unconsciously, she reached automatically for her own wand, which she kept transfigured as a muggle knife in a holster on her thigh. The man in front of her let out a single dry, mocking laugh. “Your weapons have all been removed. Or is it still unclear that you have been captured?” 

With much difficulty, she pulled herself up closer to her normal height. Even so, the human still stood a head and a half taller than her. In the low light she almost thought he was like her; his skin and hair were so pale and his gray eyes looked like liquid silver. They reflected the yellow of the light, and those scars on his face and the exposed patch of his neck were thrown into harsh relief with every waver of the flame. His heartbeat ruined the illusion, though. 

“Not able to speak? Not to worry. Now that you’re standing I’m sure you’ll start screeching or howling or whatever it is that you do that the Dark Lord thought was worth the trouble it took to bring you in.” 

He turned, then paused. Instinctively, she jerked backward at his sudden movement as his expression shifted from disgust to something else. The angle made it hard to properly distinguish, but she thought maybe he’d smirked at her skittishness. She watched him with wide eyes, her abdomen clenched tightly with fear, as he strode out of her line of sight. 

Finally, she allowed her knees to give out and slumped down onto the floor again. Too exhausted from her stubborn show of strength, she barely was able to fold her arm under her head. Her first thought was that whoever had visited her was not to be trusted at any cost, and seeing as he’d been the only one so far. Nobody she came into contact with could be trusted. She longed for the comfortable, private booths at her favorite pub. 

Typically her kind did not sleep, seeing as they didn’t need that sort of rest, but now she felt the very human urge to let her eyes close. Just a few minutes, she thought to herself, just to rest my eyes.

There was no way to keep track of how much time had passed, though. Her watch was also gone, in addition to her transfigured wand, the wad of cash she’d lifted off a snack from three days prior, and the elastic band that’d been keeping her hair tied back. Even her muggle mobile phone was absent from the back pocket of her jeans. 

According to the man she’d only been unconscious for two hours. It had to have been sometime past midnight when she’d started to feed last. What did that make it, she wondered, sometime around three in the morning? She tried to count the seconds, though there were no other sounds to base her count on; no steady dripping or breaths or heartbeats for her to pace herself with. 

Slowly, though, her thirst became more insistent than her need to count. She was sick from it, shaking and dizzy and weak. At some point, roughly 5,821 seconds into her count, she was able to stand with more stability only to collapse back down in the corner where she’d originally woken up. At that point, she could barely see straight anymore and stopped her counting. 

Her mind began to frenzy. The man mentioned the Dark Lord. Months prior, she’d heard rumors of people like her being taken off the streets mid feed or shortly after. The shaking became worse. What was to be done to her, then? Experiments? Torture? She didn’t know anything. Forsythia hadn’t even seen any of her kind in the last two weeks, let alone known anything about wizards or their affairs. 

For the most part, she kept her nose out of it. It was easier to transition once she was changed if she just kept her wand tucked into her boots or as the knife and went about her own business. It wasn’t like she knew any wizards anymore. The last time she’d been around them was that night in the Leaky Cauldron when- 

Footsteps. A beating heart. The smell of fresh rain, a forest, and a kind of leather. Forsythia didn’t even realize she’d sunk down into a defensive crouch, entire body shaking so hard she felt like she was vibrating. The footsteps and heartbeat got louder until it was all she could focus on. The sharp taste of venom filled her mouth. If she could just see the human then surely she could get what she needed. 

Her breathing stopped as the footsteps were now so loud she swore the person was just out of sight. She coiled, drawing back and then freezing so she’d be able to shoot forward as soon as she had a clear path. Her breathing slowed and stopped; there was no ache in her lungs to fill them. The smell was overwhelming now, venom slipping down her throat instead of past her lips just in case it would make too loud of a sound falling against the stone below her. 

“Petrificus totalus!” 

Her arms and legs snapped together and she lurched facedown against the stone. Forsythia tried to scream in both terror and rage, but no sound came out. There was a metallic grinding near the front of her cell, then she was struck again with a stunner.


	2. Chapter 2

Pain like she’d never felt before tore through her. Finally she could scream, though screaming did not do a single thing to relieve the pain. It felt like every inch of her body was being ripped apart. Surely, she thought, I must be close to dying now. Her body kept closing tighter and tighter around itself until finally the spell was lifted. A sob of relief slipped past her lips. 

“Ah so it does make sound. From what you said, Draco, I’d assumed it was permanently addled in the mind.” 

The voice was high, cruel, and cold. Forsythia didn’t try to raise her head or move lest the pain start again. “Yes, my lord. I believe it can speak even with the muzzle on.” 

It was him. The man from before. She knew if she opened her eyes she’d see his disgusted sneer somewhere above her. That name..something about it sounded familiar. There wasn’t time to think before cedar, or maybe pine drifted across her face and her thirst had her shooting up into a crouch again without thinking. 

“Crucio.” 

Forsythia didn’t know what she expected to have happen, moving the way she had. It was a grim thought that was quickly swallowed by the searing pain again. It ended sooner this time, and she forced herself to stay prone on the floor, even when the now heady scent washed over her again. She was shaking again, though she knew it wasn’t from thirst alone now. 

He’d said it so casually, like it was an automatic response. Who was this man?

“You found it in London, Draco?” The high voice asked. 

“Yes, my lord. Feeding on a muggle woman. I believe this is the last of the vampires in the area.” 

As he spoke, she realized there was something smooth pressed against the lower half of her face. Experimentally, she pursed her lips against it. The material held its shape against her touch. When she inhaled, she smelled dragonhide. Next, she started to open her mouth as if to bite, allowing her fangs to slide down and lengthen. As soon as her lips parted, a very strong shock went through her that rivaled the Cruciatus. She locked her teeth together and whimpered despite herself. 

“Right you are, Draco. Well done, collecting them all. Hold it up, now.” 

Rough hands closed around each of her biceps and yanked her up to a sitting position. His hand rested on her forehead once she was on her knees and the weight of it forced her head back. 

The ceiling was too dark to see, so she stared up at the inky black. Her fear was peppering the air again, and she wondered if the two men could smell it too. Then again, apart from the man holding her, Draco, the other person with them did not smell human. In fact, he didn’t smell like anything she’d ever encountered that was still living. Fear poured into her. She was being inspected. 

Her nose burned as she focused instead on the other. It was harsh, like the muggle cleaner called Bleach. There was a rotten sweetness in it that reminded her of corpses. Surely if this person was speaking he wasn’t a corpse? A wave of dizziness overtook her and her eyes snapped shut as the room spun around her. 

“What is wrong with it, Draco? Why is it so still? The others fought harder than this one is.” 

“I believe it’s thirsty, my lord. Weakened, slightly, by the lack of blood. I doubt she’ll be useful much today.” 

Useful? The cold voice made a frustrated sound. What did these people even want with her? She didn’t know anything. 

Forsythia yanked herself forward, barely slipping out of Draco’s grip before both he and the other person with them used the cruciatus on her once more. It only lasted a few seconds, but Forsythia screamed again and again even after it stopped. 

Draco grabbed her again, ripping her back until she was on her knees in front of him once more. She couldn’t fight him again, felt too nauseous and weak from thirst and from the curse. All she wanted was to go back to London, back to Fire and Fauna, the dark pub where her kind frequented. Despite not knowing wizards, she’d met many other Vampires there. 

She was used to the men, at least. There were many more of them than there were women, and Forsythia was just fine with not having to deal with rows over who was allowed what territory, seeing as that was the two other women she had met attempted to do before several of the males who took a liking to Forsythia chased them away. 

As far as she knew, she was the only female Vampire in the western part of the city. Well, had been. 

There was a sharp stab of pain in her upper arm, and she involuntarily jerked away from it. Her skin was burning, she could smell it. Draco’s hand had slipped down past her sleeve, and his rings were apparently real silver. 

As she shrank away from his touch, he discreetly readjusted his grip so his hand was over her sleeve again. Was it some kind of warning, him using his rings on her? Based on his previous behavior, she guessed so. He’d moved it, though, taken it away as soon as she’d shown her pain. Don’t trust him, she snapped at herself. Don’t give in so easily. 

“What is your name, Vampire?” 

Draco nudged her hard between the shoulder blades with his knee when she didn’t answer the putrid man in front of them fast enough. 

She tried to swallow, but her throat slid dryly against itself now that the venom had been absorbed back into her gums. Draco’s knee dug in harder and Forsythia gasped at the sharp pain of it. 

“F-Forsythia Abney.” 

The sound of her own voice made her eyes widen. Never had she sounded so scared. Even if she’d felt it, usually she was so good at keeping herself composed when faced with a threat. Now, though, she sounded like a child. 

There was a snort behind her, and then the cruel voice spoke again, “Abney..Abney was not a name of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Were you married?” She wanted to laugh at him. He wanted to know if her blood was pure? What did it matter, she wasn’t human anymore, and therefore had no blood status among wizards. Even by Vampire standards she wasn’t pure, having been turned and not born. 

Then again, she reasoned, born was a lie, too, a purposefully inaccurate term. The only reason there was any difference between Vampires who were turned and ones who were born was how they’d been changed in the first place. Born Vampires were tucked away in crypts once they were bitten, emerging as saintlike beings once they were fully changed a day or so later in the night; reborn from their time as a human. Their sire or dam would be waiting for them to lead them through their first hunt. 

Being born just meant there had been a christening.

There was fanfare, virgin sacrifices, or something equally disturbing, she was sure. There were rumors, but only those who were born knew the truth, and they never shared anything specific. It was all really a secret apart from the crypt and hunt. Whatever went on in between depended on the sire or dam, and of course, who you asked about it. From what she gathered, it seemed a very traditional experience. 

Forsythia hadn’t been so lucky. 

She pressed her lips forward again and found the cool material pressing right back into her. When she moved her mouth back and forth she could feel it against her cheeks and nose, too, and under her jaw. It made sense - they didn’t want her going around biting people, she guessed. That would also explain the shock when she attempted to bite through it, as well. What had Draco called it? A muzzle?

Maybe they did just want to torture her; if she wasn’t able to feed then maybe it was a slow death that she was destined for. Despite not being involved in the Wizarding world for nearly four years, word travelled about the Dark Lord’s appreciation for killing and maiming. Forsythia suppressed a shudder. Why would it matter having all the Vampires taken off the streets of London, though? Her mind buzzed with questions she guessed she wouldn’t be able to ask. 

When she opened her eyes again, she felt Draco almost imperceptibly startle. Knowing now that she must have at least three days between her and her last feed, and considering how she’d barely gotten any in the first place, she knew what she must look like now. 

Before, when she was still very new to her life as a Vampire, Forsythia had tried to starve herself. Two days in her skin had turned a deadly shade of pale that was nearly yellow and deep bruises formed under her eyes which had become a nightmare in and of themselves. The pupil had expanded until her irises and most of her scleras were swallowed by it. 

She’d finally given in after that, jumped the first person who’d come across her in the dark public toilet she’d holed up in. 

Once she’d drained the poor person, she was back to the new normal - eyes back to white and blue in the appropriate places, skin still sickly but at least not yellowing, and the bruising was nearly gone. She’d left the body after putting a concealment charm on it, and hoped she’d be far enough away by the time it wore off that she would never be suspected. 

“Order it to speak! The mastering spell will be strong now that you’ve placed the mask on it!” The high voice cried.

Draco’s knee pressed ever harder between her shoulders and Forsythia jerked forward away from it. “You will speak when the Dark Lord addresses you, vermin.” Draco sneered. 

Forsythia blinked up at him, shaking again as the thirst swelled once more. Her teeth pressed painfully into her lower lip. Automatically, and without being able to stop herself, she spoke. “No. Never married. Abney is my mother’s name.” 

A mastering spell, The Dark Lord had said. Did that mean what she thought it did? Would she have to listen to everything Draco told her to do? The thought absolutely shook her to her core.

She finally drew her eyes from the ceiling to look at the man in front of her. It took everything in her not to shoot backwards away from him immediately. Draco’s hands held her tighter. 

He barely looked human. He, the Dark Lord, Voldemort, was more snake than person in his features. In the near darkness his red eyes seemed to glow. Like her, his skin was nearing a yellow hue. His face was twisted in disgust and anger, and Forsythia hoped that if he was already planning to kill her he’d do it quickly, though she knew that was probably naive. 

“What was your father’s name?” 

“Black. Marius Black.” Her voice cracked over his name. Even though it had been years, saying it outloud caused a deep seated pain in her chest ache. She quickly swallowed it back. The only reason she was feeling so emotional and unstable was because she was starving. 

“Ah. A Black. Take it back to its cell, Draco. There’s no more use of her. I believe this one will serve you well in your current mission.” 

With that, Draco lifted her with one hand, keeping it tight around her upper arm over her sleeve, and dragged her backwards. Forsythia didn’t try to struggle or fight, didn’t have the energy left to do anything but stumble in whatever direction Draco took her in. Due to the cruciatus, she guessed, her shaking was so bad now it felt like she was having a fit. 

They exited the room where Voldemort had been, out into an equally dim hallway, and then up too many flights of stairs to count. She nearly fell several times, due in part to being barefoot. If he noticed, Draco didn’t say anything about it; only readjusted his grip to keep his rings off her skin. 

He took her back to her cell, which she discovered through barely open eyes was one of at least seven. It was at the end, and from what she could tell, the others were either empty or their inhabitants were not present just then. Some of them had their bars removed, and she guessed whatever Voldemort had planned for her was what they were getting up to, despite not knowing who they were. Her thoughts were uncharacteristically jumbled. 

Draco flicked his wand and the bars to her cell disappeared with the same metallic grinding that she’d heard before she’d been stunned. He unceremoniously tossed her inside and with another wave the bars ground back into place. 

“Why am I here?” She asked, though her voice was still much more weak and scared than she wished it would be. Draco only stared at her, clearly weighing his options before his expression smoothed, “To conduct interrogations.” 

Forsythia could only stare back at him as she sunk down into the floor, feeling very much like her stomach had dropped out from her body. What was that supposed to mean? Did he think of her as some common lapdog to do as her master commanded? Not a lapdog, she thought to herself, an attack dog. 

“Did you think you were important enough for us to want for some other reason?” 

His words made her jolt. She’d thought they wanted her for information, but this was much worse. “What do you mean by conduct interrogations? I can’t..I can’t do anything,” she stammered, another wave of dizziness making venom rise up from her throat instead instead of from inside her mouth. How was she supposed to vomit with the muzzle on? It was uncomfortable enough on its own, and with the pressure of it on her lips there wouldn’t be much room for sick. 

Draco’s expression went back to being blank and cold, “You’re quite right. Not with that on half your face. Really the only part of your face that matters.” His tone was biting again. She nodded, though, because he was right. Without being able to bite she was rendered useless, especially as weak as she was. 

The room spun and she collapsed sideways into the wall, shaking so hard her teeth chattered. His expression changed for a split second, too quickly for her to process in her current state. 

“What’s wrong with you? You just fed three days ago. Others..others like you have gone at least four without needing more.” 

With the last of her strength, she whispered, “I’d only had a drop or two before…” 

Her voice failed and she let her eyes close. It was becoming incredibly difficult to stay awake, even if she didn’t usually sleep at all. Part of her knew innately that even in this state she would stay living for at least another day before her body started to die from the inside out. There was only silence pressing in around her. 

“If you try anything stupid you’ll regret it. Do you understand me?” Draco’s voice was inside her cell. Forsythia nodded, her chin barely dipping. She knew she should be terrified of him coming closer to her, but what did it matter if they were probably going to end up killing her anyways? 

If she was lucky, maybe he’d do it quickly now before she was forced to do anything particularly damaging. Forsythia had never been lucky. 

There was a soft clink, like a glass bottle being set down upon the stone, and then silence again. The air shifted as if somebody walked past her. With it came that mouth watering scent of the forest and rain. She barely opened her eyes, though her mouth watered again. 

Draco cleared his throat, back outside the bars once more. “Drink that. You can take off the mask while you’re in here but you’ll be required to wear it when you exit for interrogations. If you refuse to put it back on then you’ll be ordered to. You can’t leave the cell without it, it won’t let you pass.” His tone was direct, though softer somehow. Or, she was just hallucinating it. 

Forsythia could just make out the outline of a potion bottle set in front of her. The contents were dark, too dark to tell what color. “Drink it.” Draco insisted, and with a soft pop he disapperated. 

With him gone, she leaned her head down so she could explore the mask with her hands, them being too heavy to lift more than a few inches. It was molded to her face and hard on the outside like a shell. He hadn’t told her how to get it off. It wasn’t held on by anything that she could find, but once she dug her finger underneath the top edge against her cheek it fell down into her lap heavily. 

She pushed it away, leaning heavily into the wall as she instead grabbed for the potion. It was already unstoppered, and she did her best not to spill too much as she shakily lifted it to her lips. She caught the scent just as she tipped it weakly up; rain, cedar, pine. The taste was rousing.

A deep memory, muddied and dim from time, passed through her mind as she drank long and slow from the bottle. On the day she’d turned sixteen, she’d come home to her dormitory from dinner to a stolen case of firewhiskey. Bernadette Graves, another 6th year, and Forsythia’s best friend, was grinning proudly as she tossed her a bottle. “Drink up, Thia, let’s celebrate!” 

Bernadette’s voice echoed around her head as Forsythia drank more of the potion. The room rolled over and she took a deep, needless breath, to try to ground herself. She’d never had a blood replenishing potion, but she guessed that’s what he’d given her. The added ingredient, his own blood it seemed, had to be part of the mastering charm. With his blood in her, she knew she’d feel the pull to stay close to him. Great, so much for not trusting him. 

It was from her memory that she’d finally recognized him. Draco was not just ‘Draco’. He was Draco Malfoy, a boy she’d gone to school with. Of course, now he wasn’t just a boy. There was a rush of goosebumps that cropped up over her arms at the thought of how very much a man he was. Disgust filled her to the brim and she almost thought to make herself sick, to get all of him out of her, but she was too weak to do more than just finish off the potion. Who was to say she’d ever be given any more than just this one? 

Hoping very much that that was the case, she set the glass bottle down and pushed it away from herself. As much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to feel a little better. Another shudder passed through her when she wondered if he’d come see her again. 

Her past victims were lucky - she’d never allowed herself to take enough of them to have anything like this happen, to get attached. Maybe this, like the muzzle, was another way to control her. In finishing his potion, she knew she might only be that much easier for him to command. 

The one thing she remembered rather clearly leaning back against the stone wall, was all the talk from the male Vampires about blood bonds. She overheard them all the time going on and on about how many human women they had at their beck and call. The idea was incredibly distasteful to Forsythia, and she’d always turned her nose up at it. Now, though, she wondered if she, like the human women, would become doomed to a life of servitude to the Malfoy man. She guessed the mastering charm alone would do such a thing if her suspicions about it were correct, but adding a blood bond into the mix seemed a little overkill. 

No, she thought to herself, there’s no way she would become latched onto him in that way. The men always spoke of how their humans were very much under their influence. Aghast, she blinked at the empty space in front of her. There was no way, no single possibility that these people would allow that kind of weakness into their ranks, was there? It seemed counterproductive. 

From what she’d already seen everything seemed airtight. Draco had more discipline than she’d even seen in ancient sires surrounded by humans. Was it even wise to entertain the idea that they would allow him to become tied to her in that way? She was supposed to be figuring out how to get away from this, not fabricating reasons to trust Draco Malfoy. 

Maybe he’d snuck the potion to her, surreptitiously in the same way he’d twisted his silver ring off her skin to keep from burning her again. That idea was quickly dropped, though, because why would he want to be bonded to her? Unless he didn’t know that that was a potential consequence. Forsythia sat agonizing over it until he appeared again. 

She kept her eyes down, steeling herself away from him when he entered her cell again. “Ah, not pleased to see me?” he asked, sneering down at where she was trying to force herself into the corner as tightly as she could. 

When she didn’t answer his sneer faded, “Do I need to warn you again not to do anything stupid?” Anger flared up in her chest and she packed herself in tighter. What was he expecting, a lovely conversation while he loomed over her like some kind of-. Forsythia froze. She’d been thinking he reminded her of a Death Eater, the likes of which she’d heard whispered about in the pub and when she was at school. But it occurred to her just then that a Death Eater was exactly what he was. 

“Good. You should really be thanking me, seeing as I’m hand delivering your meals.” 

She only glared at the wall in response. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach into his cloak and produce a new potion bottle she assumed was for her. It looked identical to the empty bottle on her left, and she heard him exchange them before he stood upright again. When he’d stooped, she’d seen her opportunity to kill him then and there, but something held her back. 

“Ah, that’s very interesting to know. You won’t attack me now. Excellent.” 

Furiously, she glanced up into his arrogant, gleeful face and felt sick at the sight of him. With one last order to drink the potion, Draco disappeared back out into whatever building they were in. 

She didn’t even realize she’d gone for the potion until she was letting the very last drops dribble into her mouth. She swore softly to herself, near tears over the fact that she seemingly would no longer defend herself against him. A strange ache in her chest shot backwards toward her spine, and her breath stopped short then was pushed back out of her again. 

Hyperventilating felt very human, more human than she had in years, and it was then that her mind went blank. All that was left was the sound of her rasping, uneven breathing, and even that, too, eventually calmed and left her. 

The first thought she had once the panic attack was over, was about escaping. That would be the only way to survive this, she decided. With a slightly renewed sense of purpose, Forsythia got comfortable in her corner and day dreamed about what her life would look like once she was free.


	3. Chapter 3

“Get up.” 

Draco’s monotone drawl made her eyes snap open. The sight of him made her wince backwards, plus the room was a lot brighter than usual did nothing to help. He looked tired. 

After the last replenishing potion she’d been able to get herself to sit up properly, though she kept her eyes closed to focus on staying calm. Being afraid and having a panic attack now wouldn’t solve anything or help her escape, if she could escape. If she was honest, she’d been so busy daydreaming about getting back to London that she hadn’t thought at all about exactly how she was going to make that happen. 

“Don’t make me use the mastering charm.” 

Forsythia sighed and moved slowly in case he was feeling generous with the cruciatus curse again. Her body was much steadier now, and she hoped he wasn’t going to request anything in return for the blood replenishing potions. It wasn’t like he was necessarily hiding that fact that she got them, but then again she hadn’t seen anybody come around to search her cell or anything. What could she even give him in return? Her stomach went sour at the thought. 

She didn’t realize she’d moved closer to the bar until her foot connected with the mask she’d left on the floor where she’d fallen however long ago when he’d brought her back from meeting The Dark Lord. It made a clattering scrape against the stone, “Put it on.” he commanded. 

In the time she’d left it on the floor she hadn’t properly looked over the mask. Like the bars of her cell, it too was carved with odd little markings; if she squinted it seemed that they were all the same. It was black, the dragonhide polished until the scales glittered black or red depending on how the light hit it. She wondered what kind of dragon it had been. 

With one last wince in his direction, she bent and awkwardly held it up against her mouth. In an instant, it molded to her face and rested against her again, holding its own weight without resting too heavily on the bridge of her nose. 

“Who knew my blood would give you some semblance of intelligence.” 

His face twisted into a sneer when she continued to stare at him. She watched in her peripheral vision as he gave his wand a short wave, then startled at the harsh grinding as the bars twisted out of the way. In that moment, there was nothing more she would have liked than to take a chunk out of him. As soon as her fangs descended, the mask gave a warning shock that made her muscles lock.

Draco met her eyes, his expression hardening, and reached out and took her arm. He tugged once, but she refused to move. Forsythia didn’t want a repeat of their last outing, didn’t want to trip along beside him while he half dragged her. 

She cut him off before he could snarl anything else at her, “I want my boots back, and I can walk on my own.” It was annoying talking against the mask; the inside was scratchy and harsh against her mouth. It muffled her voice, too, more than she’d noticed when it was first applied. Draco raised an eyebrow, “You’re not in any position to ask for favors. Your kind don’t need shoes, or clothes for that matter, from what others like you have said. Why do you want the boots?” 

“I don’t like not having them, and they were very expensive.” 

His expression softened for barely a second before he tensed back up again. 

Draco scoffed, stepped back out of the cell, waved the bars back into place, and disapparated with a soft pop. For some reason, she knew he hadn’t left for good, though her stomach did dip unpleasantly with his sudden absence. 

Being so close to the bars, Forsythia could see the strange markings in the metal now. Runes, she guessed, now, though she’d never taken Arithmancy in school. They looked like tick marks sprawling across the metal. She could smell it, though, the silver in the metal. It wasn’t all silver, but she didn’t want to experiment. Draco’s ring had barely come into contact with her skin and it had scalded her. There was no reason to knowingly repeat that. 

With a soft, surprised gasp, Forsythia realized he hadn’t had any of his rings on. She looked down at her arm for confirmation, and saw no wounds there even though he’d absolutely touched her bare skin. 

Her shoes banged down against the stone as he dropped them in front of the bars. “There. And you’re not walking on your own.” Startled, Forsythia blinked down at her boots. They looked the same as they always did; black, dragonhide, like home. There was that softening in his expression, though still just barely a flash of it was let past his glare. 

“Th-anks, thank you, I mean,” she stammered, glad that her voice was muffled and that he couldn’t see her bite her lip, embarrassed about stumbling over her words. Her stomach was full of anxious butterflies; he was making her nervous, though she chalked that up to his blood and their proximity. Draco waved his wand again, silent, and took her upper arm as soon as the bars were gone. This time, she subtly glanced down at his hand and sure enough, his fingers were bare. 

Draco paused for long enough for her to slide her boots on and tie the laces up as tight as they’d go. His hand loosened slightly once she was finished with them, and he took her back towards the stairs. “We’re going easy on you for your first time,” he said, “I’ll be there making sure you don’t kill anybody.” The dangerous smirk was back in place, and his hand tightened as they reached the third floor landing. 

Forsythia almost snapped at him for yanking her around. Clearly she wasn’t a flight risk yet seeing as she stayed right on him, but then a few other people joined them in the hall. Deep in her very being, she knew not to speak to him in front of these people. They had full face masks that glittered silver and wore the same black robes that Draco did, moved just as silently. Fear whispered through her. His fingers dug into her, urging her more behind him, and then relaxed back to being comfortable once they passed the other group. 

They’d made him nervous. She could smell it on him, his slight shift into apprehension. Then, it dissolved again when the group had gone. Interesting. 

The hallway opened up into a larger room that, other than them, was empty. The white marble floor glittered in a brilliant light that seemed to glow from the room itself. Forsythia tripped as she ogled the high ceiling. “Be careful,” Draco snapped, hand tightening again while he jerked to glare at her fiercely. 

She shuddered away from him, though he didn’t let her get far. Fear was rising quickly in her throat like bile, and it must have been written all over her face because Draco blanched and started to turn away from her. He flickered his eyes to hers, then deliberately looked down. 

Was he trying to show submission? Her entire body went cold. How did he even know what that meant, if he knew what it meant? Sure, in the pub most men kept their eyes down around her in a show of respect, but why was he? Forsythia, too shocked to even believe what she’d seen, stumbled along behind him dumbly as he turned fully away from her. 

He led her across the floor, yanking her roughly only when the odd person appeared and then disappeared. As they reached the other side, another masked vampire accompanied by a Death Eater in a shiny, silver mask apparated just beside them. 

“Ah, Malfoy. I see you’ve finally been assigned one, and a female, too.”

The other vampire did not lift their eyes or give any indication that their handler had spoken to hers. Instead, they continued staring down at their bound hands. Forsythia followed their line of sight and shivered. Their hands were chained together with silver, runes decorating the metal. She could see the skin under the chains was burned a dark, angry red. 

Though she didn’t recognize the Vampire, she felt intense sympathy for them. Suddenly Draco’s hand on her arm felt like the lightest feather. 

“Indeed, Macnair.” 

Draco pulled her further, into another hallway and then stopped abruptly. Forsythia knocked into his shoulder, letting out a startled hiss without thinking. She braced, waiting for the ‘crucio’ that didn’t come. When she cracked her eyes open, Draco was watching her with a curious expression. 

She blinked at him, wincing before apologizing softly for her clumsiness. Draco’s face went blank, “We’re interrogating a Death Eater today. The Cruciatus is too dangerous to use again on him, so you’re going to bite him and let him bleed a little bit at a time until he decides that explaining himself is worth more than bleeding out. Do you have the control for that or do you need something before we start?” 

His question felt sarcastic, like he was feigning interest in her wellbeing. He certainly didn’t strike her as the type to genuinely care for anything less than a pureblood wizard. Then again, she guessed that he might get in trouble if she killed anybody she wasn’t supposed to. The thought that there might eventually be people she was supposed to kill sent a harsh shiver up her spine. There was no way she’d be able to do that. 

Draco was still waiting for her answer, though, one eyebrow raised. Forsythia shrugged casually, making her face and tone go as blank as his were, “l think I’ll be alright.” Now wasn’t the time to panic. With her answer, Draco reached down and opened the door they’d stopped at. He pushed her in first, and Forsythia wanted to yank the mask off to defend herself immediately at the sight of the man waiting for them inside. 

The room was white, a stone table that seemed to rise up out of the floor sat in the middle of it. It was smaller than her cell, and once the door clicked shut, she jerked to glance at Draco before turning back to the man facing them. 

He was chained to his seat, his massive arms bare as the black robes he wore had the sleeves pushed and secured up to his bicep. His face was a mess, bruised and swollen horribly, but cleaned of blood. He had strange circular bruises that patterned his exposed arms, though the dark tattoo on his left forearm was clear; a skull with a snake twisted around and through it. “Hornstrand, Black,” Draco said, indicating her to the man, “Black, Hornstrand.” 

Forsythia wanted to laugh. This seemed like an interaction where introductions were not necessary. At the sound of her name, the man, Hornstrand, lifted his head. “A fucking Vampire? And a bitch one at that? Surely this is a joke, Malfoy,” he grunted. As he spoke, she noticed he was missing several teeth. There were gaping, black holes in his gums, but still no blood. Maybe they’d cleaned him on purpose so she wouldn’t frenzy and kill him too quickly. 

“You can take your mask off now. The door’s shut.” Draco told her, ignoring Hornstrand and finally releasing her arm. She rolled her shoulder and flexed her fingers experimentally now that she had her arm back from him. Still awkward, she reached up and fit her finger between her cheek on the mask. Draco snorted at her, “Just lift it off, mongrel.” 

Just to spite him, she continued wiggling her finger until the mask slipped free. She caught it before it hit the ground, and much to her surprise, Draco held his hand out for it. Slowly again, unsure if he’d lash out if she moved too quickly, she handed it over. The awkwardness settled over the room as Hornstrand glared at the pair of them. She’d never interrogated anybody before, nor had she ever tried to inflict pain on any of her victims, at least not consciously. 

Draco took a deep breath, his exhale filling the room with his scent. Suppressing a shiver, she waited for him to tell her what he wanted her to do and prayed that Hornstrand would just give him what he wanted before she had to do anything too drastic.

“We know that you’ve been meeting with somebody from the Order, Hornstrand. Just tell us who.” His drawl made her shiver, and this time she didn’t have a chance to stop herself. If he saw, he didn’t say anything. 

“What, so you can take your sket and go find them? Fat chance, Malfoy. It doesn’t matter, either. They already know about the Vampires. Before you know it they’ll be here with a hail of silver bullets if they’re smart. They know I’ve been captured, so it’s only a matter of time.” Forsythia’s fear of Draco shifted into fear of what Hornstrand was saying. Would there really be an attack on wherever they were?

That made Draco snort again, though it was devoid of any humor now, “Jeopardizing these weapons has not pleased the Dark Lord, Hornstrand. We keep them thirsty, you know, for these meetings. At my word she’ll drain you dry.” Instead of intimidating him, though, Hornstrand actually started laughing at them. He said something incredibly rude about how willing he was to let her drain a certain part of him dry, and with a wrinkled nose Forsythia decided she wouldn’t feel too bad about hurting him. Even in her human years she despised men who said disgusting things about women. 

“Ah. You’ve hit a nerve with her. Go ahead, then, Black. Maybe three bites for now.” 

At his word, and just as he’d said, Forsythia felt herself lunge forward. Even though she’d been somewhat well fed the last couple of days, Forsythia couldn’t stop the frenzy from taking over her mind. This prey could not run, could not defend itself, could not fight back.

She leaned forward and forgot all about going slow. The second her knees hit the floor next to his chair, her teeth sunk into his exposed forearm. 

In short, he tasted awful. So awful, in fact it stopped her mid frenzy. The dark magic that was burned into his body stung her tongue and made it almost too easy to pull back once she’d allowed her venom to flow into him. She knew it would keep his blood from coagulating, and more than anything, would burn like hell. 

It had nothing on the Cruciatus, but the more bites the more pain was piled on. Once her teeth were free, though she did yank them sideways to open the wound more, she was on her feet and sunk into his bicep next, then the side of his neck just to the left of his jugular; afterall, Draco didn’t tell her to kill him. 

Whatever information he had seemed very important, and if she messed up she was sure they’d dispose of her immediately. 

If she was going to escape, she would need to gain their trust. She’d need to work with Draco, whom apparently she was assigned to, or whoever else would take her over if he was ever finished with this mission. Perhaps this was the only interrogation she’d do with him. Then again, he’d said since this was her first time they were going easy on her, and that he’d stay with her during it. Did that mean that in the future she would conduct the biting on her own? Surely if they didn’t want her killing anybody it would be safer to keep a chaperone with her, wasn’t it? 

Her mind started to go fuzzy, and the dark magic in his blood was making her feel almost drunk. She stumbled back from him, nearly tripping over her feet until her back hit the side wall. “Enough.” Draco’s words made her freeze against it, then she slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor. The magic was burning her tongue and lips and throat where she’d swallowed some. It reminded her vaguely of firewhiskey. 

The room slowly came back into focus. Draco was leaning menacingly forward over the table, his words growled low in his throat while Hornstrand rasped back in a weak voice she didn’t even try to focus on. There was a soft dripping sound; his blood hitting the floor. Forsythia stared at it, both repulsed and intrigued as it started to pool. She hadn’t done enough for him to bleed out, at least not quickly, but the burn of the venom seemed to be forcing his tongue. 

The small puddle grew the longer they spoke, and Forsythia let her mind remain quiet as her mouth burned. Too afraid to move lest she pass out from it, she stayed as still as possible, even abandoning breathing in favor of lessening the discomfort from his blood. The smell was starting to fill the room, starting to cover Draco’s until it was suffocating her. She should say something, tell him she couldn’t take it anymore, that she was going to…

Her eyes slipped closed, and she felt herself slump back against the wall fully. Draco’s robes brushed against her ankles as he seemed to pass her, his smell giving her a brief respite that offered just enough relief to lift her head. Hornstrand was crying, now, his swollen face twisted in despair. There were new bright red marks across his face that hadn’t been there before she’d closed her eyes. “Alright, alright,” he cried, “Alright, Malfoy, fine. I’ll tell you, just make it stop.” 

“No, I think I prefer you this way.” 

“Fine, fine, here, I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you. It’s Shacklebolt. Kingsley Shacklebolt, he’s-he’s the one who..who..fuck, mate, please!” 

She heard a wand swish through the air, heard Draco cast a cleaning spell, then a healing spell. Hornstrand gave a thick sob of relief, and Forsythia almost joined him in doing so as Draco’s scent filled her completely now that he was close to her again. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone and died,” he sneered down at her. When she opened her eyes again, he was blocking Hornstrand from view. 

When she didn’t answer him, he looked curious again as he cocked an eyebrow, “Sit forward. I need to put this back on you.” He didn’t order her, but she leaned forward obediently, too glad that his proximity was helping ease the burn. He held the mask just in front of the lower half of her face, and she had a strong feeling he wanted her to close the gap. 

It was odd, but she pushed any extra thoughts away and instead rested her chin into its spot in the muzzle. The movement felt intimate, in a strange way, almost like they were kissing. His eyes held hers steadily, then looked down again. Submission. 

Automatically, the mask conformed to her face and then Draco was hauling her up and locking his fingers around her arm again. He was silent as he led her from the interrogation room, the sound of Hornstrand’s pathetic crying cutting as soon as the door closed again, through the large main room, and back down the stairs to the cells. 

Forsythia swayed as they went, the dark magic still making her feel dizzy. She didn’t realize she’d broken out into a cold sweat until Draco stopped her in front of her cell and the corners of his mouth turned down in disgust. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked, scrambling to grab her when she started to fall sideways. He let go of her just as quickly as he’d reached out. As clearly as she could manage, she said, “I need to throw up his blood. The dark magic in it..it’s making me..sick.” 

He was curious again, “Oh? None of the others ever had problems. I thought you were dark creatures to begin with.” That dull conversational tone made her want to roll her eyes. When she didn’t speak again, Draco cleared his throat, sounding somewhat awkward, “You can take it off. Do what you need to and I’ll..I’ll, uh..take care of...,” he trailed off and looked away from her, though his eyes were narrowed. 

“Thanks.” 

Forsythia reached up and, as when putting the mask on but in reverse, lifted it from her face. It came away instantly, and she barely had any time before everything started coming up. Draco didn’t look at her, just waited until she picked herself back up off the floor where she’d dropped onto her hands and knees and then swished his wand. The mess was gone, and the cage opened for her to go back in. When she hesitated, Draco snarled at her to go. Her feet moved before she could even think to step inside. 

So, she thought to herself with an exasperated, grim smile, that was an interrogation. The metal ground, and when she turned back to look at him, Draco had gone. Forsythia threw the mask down with a thunk and sat in her usual corner. Now that her stomach was empty, and her mouth no longer felt like it was being burned, she was left with only her thoughts. 

Who was Kingsley Shacklebolt? That question hung in her mind for a moment before she shrugged and wondered, instead, what would happen if this Order did show up with silver bullets. Muggle weapons wouldn’t kill her, but healing from any wound caused by silver would take a lot of time she probably wouldn’t have if they were in the middle of an attack. 

If she could keep this up, though, keep helping Draco get the information he needed from people, maybe she’d be able to understand the situation more and gain the upper hand at some point. Then again, if Draco was starting to warm up to her thanks to the blood bond, maybe he’d end up protecting her in the event of an attack. He’d been infinitesimally less cruel to her after the interrogation, so maybe he was coming around. 

That made her wonder, though, why on earth they were lacing the potion with his blood in the first place. She knew that some Vampires lived off of the potions, so called ‘vegans’, but she’d never heard of humans donating a few drops of blood for those. So, if she could live off of the straight potion, what was the point in adding blood? 

Her mind wandered for what felt like hours, and she was so deep in thought that she didn’t hear when he apparated in front of her cage. There was a clink very similar to the one she’d heard when he’d brought her the previous blood replenishing potions, and when she looked up he was watching her mildly. 

“Drink it.” 

She nodded, “I will. Thank you.” As he started to turn she couldn’t stop herself, “W-Wait! I..I have a question.” He froze, half turned from her, but he waited. “Why..why is your blood mixed with this?” 

The hint of a smirk ghosted over his face. His scar on his nose flashed from pinkish to silver in the torch light. “Why do you think?” 

The guessing games would probably have made her head hurt if she was capable of it, or if she was thirsty enough. Without thinking, she let out an exasperated sigh, “I guess it’s probably the blood bond, but I wasn’t sure if you knew anything about that.” His smirk widened. Apparently his amusement with her was only growing. 

“Yes, we know about blood bonding. It’s an effective way to force you to work with me.” 

Forsythia nodded, a bitter taste in her mouth that had nothing to do with any trace amounts of Hornstrand’s tainted blood. As frustrating as it was, it seemed he didn’t understand that in entering the bond he’d be giving up some of his freedom, too. There still might be a hope, then, that if they were bonded for long enough, or if the bond was exceptionally strong, he might end up helping her escape. 

She set her eyes pointedly on the floor, and didn’t look up again until Draco told her to drink her potion. By the time she did lift her eyes, though, he was gone again. Begrudgingly, she unstoppered it and lifted it to her lips. Even though she braced herself for his scent, it still hit her like a ton of bricks. 

The potion was gone in a matter of seconds, and though she was buzzing hard on his blood, she knew at some point she’d have to stop drinking so much of it. If she had any hope of getting out, she’d have to lessen her side of the bond while increasing his. That being said, if it was even possible to do such a thing.


	4. Chapter 4

Several days must have passed since she’d seen Draco. Despite not being able to see the sun rising and setting, she knew it had to be happening. Two potions had appeared just inside her cell, too, probably a day or two separating their arrival. At some point, maybe two days into him not seeing her, there were steps on the stairs; one heartbeat, but two distinct sets of feet. Forsythia stayed as silent as she could while she heard one of the cells, three away from her, grind open. 

There was a snarl, one from somebody like her, and then the bars shut and somebody else swore thickly before there was a loud pop and silence fell once more. The Vampire down the way didn’t speak to her, might not have even realized she was there, but for Forsythia this meant she might be able to get more information. Nobody told her she couldn’t talk to anyone else they brought down there. 

She gave them what felt like two hours before she cleared her throat awkwardly and said casually, “Alright down there?” There was no response. Her lips curled up in frustration, making way for her fangs as they peeked out slightly further than where they usually sat. She was certain the person hadn’t left, and surely they weren’t so thirsty they were beyond speech. If they’d helped with an interrogation, and hadn’t responded to the dark magic the way she had, then surely they’d be nice and full and in a decent mood. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

Forsythia jerked up from where she was sitting. Another few hours had passed without a response, and she’d almost completely forgotten anybody else was there. Once she was calm again, she called back, “Forsythia Ab-..Black. You?” 

“Jonathan Francis-Curt.”

The name sounded like it was not from this decade and she guessed this person was probably much older than she, though their voice sounded young. He was male, that much was clear, and she’d never met him previously. His accent was distinctly scottish, and she guessed that was why they’d not crossed paths. Their conversation lulled for what seemed to be another hour before Jonathan spoke again. 

“Do you get potions? Or do they just bring you up to feed?” 

“Potions. I didn’t know we had a choice. You?”

That made him let out a barking laugh. Something in it sounded more menacing than she was comfortable with, but with them being in cages she felt somewhat protected. He didn’t answer for a long time again before he said quietly, “I used to get the potions. Now, unfortunately, I’m allowed to have it right from the source.” 

Forsythia immediately imagined him sipping from a bubbling cauldron and almost laughed as he had. When he didn’t say more she blinked rapidly at the empty space just passed the bars. With a quick breath, Forsythia asked, “What do you mean from the source?” It was too cruel, to accept what she already knew he was going to tell her. 

“The Dark Lord wants us to be bonded as close to our masters as possible. That way we’re unable to break the bond, or use it against anybody.” His voice had a sneer in it, and she was instantly reminded of Draco. Jonathan sounded like what he’d said was both making him sick and also sending him into a rage. His apparent irritability made Forsythia immediately wish she’d never spoken to him in the first place. She didn’t know why his anger scared her so much, and she quickly squished the want for Draco to be close to her in case this other Vampire found a way to get to her. 

His words, too though, made her stomach drop. So they did know that the human would give part of themselves the same way the Vampire would. She tried not to be sick at the thought of her only plan being ruined in only a few words. 

More time passed in silence, Forsythia too afraid to ask more questions and Jonathan unwilling to start a new conversation. Given their probable age difference, she wasn’t surprised. Rarely she came across vampires as young as herself, and when she met those that were older she didn’t like to stay around them long. They saw no value in being at least somewhat decent towards the humans they interacted with. It was, as she thought about it, a creative difference. 

Her train of thought was interrupted by a soft pop in front of her cell. Draco looked strange, paler somehow. She watched him sway slightly before he waved his wand and the metal slid out of the way. Subconsciously, Forsythia shrank back from him. “Drink.” His voice was harsh, hoarser than she’d heard it; usually it was smooth and drawling and deep. 

When she only stared at him, he held up the outstretched potion closer to her face, “Don’t make me command you to, I’m very tired.” Forsythia took the potion from his hand, careful to move slow and to not let her fingers brush his. She saw, for the first time, the skin of his wrist. There was a wound there, one that he’d clearly treated already as it was half-way done healing. 

The smell alone would have sent her into a frenzy if she hadn’t felt so worried about why he looked so terrible. She tried to shake the worry away, to stifle it somehow, but their bond was forming whether she wanted it to or not and she was instantly cold at the memory of Jonathan’s words. Draco’s hand shook as she took the potion from him. 

“Drink. We have an interrogation later tonight so I need you prepared and in control. Is that clear?” He sounded like his throat must have been killing him. Forsythia nodded, though, even unstoppered the bottle and started drinking right there in front of him. His eyes were trained on her. As she drank, she was suddenly clear on why he was so pale. Normally, the potions he brought her only had what she’d guess was ten drops of his blood. This one, though, the one he was staring at as she drank, had to have two or three times that. 

As soon as it was empty, Draco gave her a stiff nod and stepped out of the cell, waving his wand over his shoulder as if closing her off was an afterthought. Silence fell once more as he ascended the stairs. 

“At least yours is a proper match.” Jonathan’s voice rang through the quiet and startled her away from her thoughts and the buzz of Draco’s blood. 

“What?”

He snorted at her, “You’re a woman, he’s a man. It makes more sense than me. I’m with a lad. Makes feeding a bit...awkward.” 

Forsythia pretended she understood what he meant, nodding and humming like she knew exactly what he was talking about. Despite her deepest wishes for him not to, he continued dryly, “It’s alright with the bond, but I’m sure you’ve been there where you get a little...personally excited. The humans usually don’t remember what happens, but wizards and witches…”

Him trailing off did absolutely nothing to help her understand, nor did she want to. Whatever he was talking about was hopefully not something she’d be with Draco for long enough to have to worry about, especially if she was able to continue being as successful as she’d been with Hornstrand and their bond progressed without needing to feed directly from him. 

Jonathan kept talking, but Forsythia pointedly ignored him. There was nothing interesting or worth knowing about the stories of his past blood-bonded lovers. She’d heard enough of those kinds of tales at the pub. Besides, more than anything, she couldn’t relate. 

She’d only been seventeen when she was turned. As she started to think about that night in the Leaky Cauldron she abruptly shook her head and turned her attention instead to the footsteps on the stairs. Usually Draco apparated to her directly, so the thought of Jonathan’s handler coming to take him away made her still heart leap with happiness. 

As she’d hoped, there was a metallic grinding down the line, a short conversation in which the Death Eater snapped at him to adorn his mask, and then they were gone. From the popping sound, she guessed he’d disapparated them away. The quiet was more comforting than having somebody, Jonathan specifically, to pass the time with. 

Only a couple of minutes passed when Draco appeared again. He waited for her to put the mask on, and once she did, waved his wand to open her cell. The moment she was within reach he took her upper arm. For the first time she realized his hands were so large that his thumb rested over his first and middle fingers when he held her there. Yet again, no rings. Forsythia shook herself - this was just the bond. 

Just as he had last time, Draco took her upstairs to the third landing, through the open room which was much more crowded than it had been last time, both with Death Eaters and other masked Vampires, and down the opposite hall. It was shocking seeing so many of them in one place, and Forsythia shrank behind Draco partly to avoid any of them seeing her and also to not meet any familiar faces.

They walked for longer, taking turns here and there through the maze of interrogation rooms until they stood at a door that was an exact replica of the rest. Curious, she wondered how they could tell the rooms apart. 

Draco turned to her slowly, his eyes guarded, “I think she’ll be able to take three or so bites. Once that’s done, wait for me. Don’t kill her.” There was something in his voice, something that should have been a command but didn’t quite reach far enough for it to be effective. Forsythia, feeling like he’d just pulled a punch, blinked and nodded once that she understood. He opened the door but stopped her when she started to walk in, his hand tightening until it was nearly painful, “Give me the muzzle.” 

There was an intensity as Draco held her gaze while she slipped the mask off. When he took it, their fingers brushed and Forsythia had to force herself not to shiver at the electricity that zapped from him to her. This wasn’t happening, this wasn’t happening. She thought it over and over while still keeping her eyes locked on his. Even though she was so much smaller than he was, and he was definitely the one in charge for the most part, Forsythia watched as he lowered his eyes first. 

She’d never noticed, but in the gray there were flecks of a warm green, but before she let herself get too involved with that, she slid out of his grip and into the room. Submissive or not, he still could curse her faster than she could run from him. 

The woman sitting in front of her was barely that - she had to still be a teenager. For a moment, Forsythia was taken aback. They interrogated children? The girl looked up, her brown eyes glazed and bloodshot. She’d been crying; she could smell it, tangy on the air. 

“W-Wait..wait, I can..I’ll tell him. I’ll tell him where my mum is, I don’t want to be bitten,” she whispered, her eyes empty but her voice pleading. Forsythia folded her arms, suddenly very uncomfortable with the situation. She didn’t want to harm children, let alone girls who were close to her own age. Something about the girl, maybe her bushy hair, seemed familiar, even. What if they’d been in school around the same time? 

She willed herself to take a step forward. Draco had given her a clear instruction, and if she wanted him to trust her she’d have to do as he said, even if it went against her usual moral code. The girl started screaming as soon as she took another step. Wailing louder and louder until Forsythia clapped her hand over the girl’s mouth, “Shush,” she said, and when the girl quieted down to whimpers and shivering, she removed her hand. 

“Where is your mother?” she asked her. It took her several minutes, but the girl was able to choke out, “A-Australia. I sent h-her there with m-my dad-b-but nobody else i-is with them-,” she hiccuped and then pressed her lips firmly together while her shoulders shook. There was something sweet about her, something warm and inviting. It took Forsythia a moment to realize she had a cut just under the neck of her shirt, right across her clavicle. 

She held out her hand, “Give me your arm. I have to bite you but I promise I’ll do as much as I can to not let it hurt. Just start screaming and it’ll be over quickly.” The girl, now looking a little braver than before, nodded as tears slid down her blotchy face. 

Forsythia barely got half way through the first bite when the screaming started. At first, she was worried she wouldn’t be able to hold off, but after taking a ragged breath, she remembered that this was just a child and it was much easier to work. She noticed a scar on the girl’s arm, grimacing as she read what it spelled out. As she’d promised, she was as gentle as she could be; even went as far as closing all but one of the bites as she marked up the poor girl's arm with a brush of her tongue. It felt wrong, so terrible wrong, but she needed Draco. 

When she sat back, the girl was dazed again, though tears still fast tracked down her cheeks seemingly endless. One thing was for sure, she tasted a hell of a lot better than Hornstrand had. There wasn’t much time to bask in the happiness that brought her before Draco strode in looking blank as ever. He handed her the mask, waited until it was securely placed, then took her arm again. It might have been her imagination, but Forsythia thought his hand was an inch and a half closer to her elbow. 

The girl didn’t have much dark magic in her, and certainly nothing close to what Hornstrand had. Even so, the moment they were back outside her cell, Draco turned and asked if she was going to be sick again. “M-Maybe..,” she said, twisting out of his hand and leaning against the wall opposite her cell. Draco didn’t move to grab her again, so she let her head fall back to rest, too. The air around them was so full of him that she could barely think straight. The tension from earlier was back when she opened her eyes to find him staring at her again. 

There was something in that stare, something possessive. Guessing she’d just imagined it, Forsythia carefully raised herself back up to stand fully. Draco, still watching her, waved his wand. As she moved past him, though, his eyes stayed glued to the opposite wall. “Did you drink from her?” he asked once the bars were back in place. The same possessive edge that was in his eyes was also in his voice. 

“Not much, no.” 

“Pity. I’ll have something brought to you tomorrow.” 

“When’s tomorrow?”

He paused, then, as if he was imitating her, he turned very slowly to face where she’d sat down on the stone floor in the cell. “Tomorrow, Thursday, is in thirteen hours. That’ll be eight in the morning. Are you going to tell me your watch is another item you desperately need?” he asked, his expression twisted. His scars flashed across his face and neck. For a moment, he looked very dangerous. 

Forsythia was reminded of the cruciatus curse. How he’d said it so casually, like he was saying any number of other words that wouldn’t cause somebody to feel the absolute worst pain of their life. She shivered at the memory of it. When she didn’t answer him, he turned on the spot and vanished. Part of her hoped he’d come back with her watch, though the rest of her was glad he had gone. The scent of him, the rain and the trees, was becoming too easy to get lost in.


	5. Chapter 5

Forsythia looked up when a small pop sounded outside her cell. It wasn’t Draco, she could tell immediately by the stench that wafted in. The immediate, acrid smell of the person standing in front of her made her face contort in disgust. This man was much shorter and rounder than Draco was, and reminded Forsythia very much of a rat. 

He was balding. His beady, watery eyes that jerked around until he found her leaned back against the wall. A flicker of annoyance burned in her as he looked her over, inspected her, sized her up. 

His watery eyes stayed fixed upon her as he waved his wand. The bars only opened enough for him to set a new potion bottle and a small box down on the stone just inside the cell. Forsythia raised an eyebrow; she wondered if he’d wet himself or curse her if she approached him. By the look on his face, both were equally likely. 

The man disapparated as soon as the bars were back in place, so she didn’t have a chance to test her theory. Instead, she pushed off from where she’d been leaning back against the far wall and went to collect what he’d left for her. 

Within the box, she found the holster for her knife, though it was empty, and her watch. Draco told her the truth the night before; it was eight o’clock on the dot. Forsythia couldn’t help but smile to herself.  _ He’d told her the truth.  _ Her stomach fluttered with nervous excitement; that was twice now he’d brought her gifts. Twice that he’d returned her possessions. 

Even though she desperately wanted to dwell on it, Forsythia instead focused on getting her watch on using one hand. She couldn’t give him too much credit. He was still the one ordering her to bite and torture random people. Despite hating what she was being forced to do, and only doing it to save her own skin, Forsythia couldn’t fully tramp out the happiness from having her things back. Damn him. 

She took the potion back to her corner once her watch was back on her wrist, curled up as comfortably as she could with her shoulder against one wall and her knees resting against the other and sipped as she watched the seconds tick by. 

Her mind wandered towards the girl from her last interrogation and how different that experience had been from Hornstrand’s. It hadn’t been as violent, nor as cruel as it could have been. That was a relief, at least. 

The girl hadn’t been nearly as brutalized. In fact, she’d been in almost perfect condition apart from being a bit dirty and weepy. There was something, though, itching in the back of her mind. She’d known her, seen her before, somewhere. 

The anxiety that bubbled up while she tried to remember was intense, and Forsythia pushed it away from herself. Her fangs slipped down at the memory of biting, and disgust mixed with her anxiety. Could she not keep herself under control for one second? Her disgust turned to shame, then guilt in a flurry that made her head spin. 

Forsythia took a deep, though thoroughly unnecessary, breath. She was only doing what she had to do to gain Draco’s trust; so she could escape. Whatever she had to do to survive were things she could forgive herself for if it meant she would get out of the cage. Whoever the girl was and whatever happened to her once she’d left the interrogation room didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was getting free. 

It wasn’t Forsythia’s responsibility to keep the girl safe. She could only look out for herself now. Every chance she got, she was as merciful as was allowed, regardless. That was all she could do. That being said, she’d already done everything she could to not damage the girl too horribly. She doubted the marks she’d left would even become a scar.

The anxiety must have exhausted her because she found her thoughts sliding together in a muddled, slippery mess. One second she was back in the interrogation room with the bushy haired girl and the next she was thinking of Draco. His cruel eyes. The sharp snap of his voice. That frustrating smirk that made her want to do something, anything, to wipe it off his face. 

This new train of thought was a welcome distraction from the previous.

Her potion was stronger, again. Draco must have given somewhere between forty and fifty drops this time. The more she drank the more she wanted to see him, the more she needed him close to her. It was disheartening, being able to see herself start to bond with him while simultaneously fighting off the urge to do that very thing. She knew this, drinking the potions he supplied, was the only way to stay in control of herself, but the cost of it was so high.

  
Fleetingly, she wondered if she screamed loud enough they’d bring him to her in order to keep her quiet. 

Scowling, Forsythia finished the potion and curled in tighter around herself. She didn’t  _ need  _ him to be closer, that was just the bond trying to force them together. Despite knowing this, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad at his absence, wondering if he felt the same. 

_ No, _ she thought sharply,  _ he doesn’t care like that. _

_ But he brought you your things back and stopped wearing his rings. _

_ Shut up, _ she snapped again, annoyed at her own internal monologue,  _ he doesn’t care and that won’t change, give it a rest.  _

_ But it’s already changing, you’re not the only one feeling the bond.  _

_ I don’t know that for sure,  _ she thought, setting the empty potion bottle down and pacing the length of her cell, agitated now, _ and even if he is feeling it, too, it wouldn’t matter. He’s still a Death Eater. _

_ He’s been kind to you, though. _

Forsythia drove her hands back through her hair, combing through it with her fingers and grumbling to herself. It didn’t matter if he was kind to her or if he kissed the stupid ground she walked on. At the end of the day, he was a Death Eater and he was forcing her to torture people! She threw herself back into the corner in a huff, dreading the moment he’d return to her. 

At half-past noon, and after her agitation lessened enough for her to think straight again, Jonathan Francis-Curt was put back into his cell. Another welcome distraction. He didn’t snarl this time, and was otherwise silent as his bars ground into place. Despite the air being so still in their room, the scent of fresh blood drifted down the line to her. 

It smelled like tobacco flowers and citrus, and probably would have been pleasurable if she didn’t still have a stomach full of Draco’s to compare it to. Instead of being pleasant, it made her rather grumpy and agitated all over again. 

“You’re not allowed to be angry down there, I’m the only one allowed to be angry.” 

Jonathan’s voice carried down to her. He must have been whispering instead of calling out because the air shimmered with the sound of his voice. 

“Leave me alone.” 

Jonathan laughed at her; not his previous, barking laugh, but a true chuckle that came from his belly. Forsythia rolled her eyes and ignored him. 

Fifteen minutes later, Jonathan called slightly louder to her, “You’re not allowed to be angry because I’m the one who has to deal with drinking from a lad in the first place.” 

“How did you know I was angry?” 

“Vampire’s intuition. Also, you growled.” 

Forsythia blanched. Had she really? She blinked at the spot on the floor she was staring at. How had she missed a full blown growl? 

“Now, if you’ve finished with your temper tantrum,” Jonathan continued, “where’s your handler anyways? I haven’t seen him in a few days.” 

What did he care where Draco was? Forsythia didn’t hold back her growl, and was quite aware of it as she let it tear at her throat. It was a warning, because she didn’t want to talk about Draco, and especially not when she was still feeling some of the lingering effects of his blood. She’d just gotten herself calmed down and the very last thing she wanted to do was get back into the thick of it. 

Jonathan only laughed at her again, “Females are always so aggressive about their bonded humans. That’s probably why you’re with a highly ranked general, isn’t it? They expect you to protect him if it comes to it. Take a killing curse to the face or somethin’ for him.” 

His words made ice spread through her chest and stomach. Forsythia didn’t make a single noise, didn’t breathe or move from where she was still awkwardly curled in the corner. Had Jonathan been on interrogations like that? Was she going to be expected to  _ die  _ for Draco if it came to it?

Her breath scraped down her throat as she tried to get a hold of herself. They never even left wherever it was that she was trapped, surely there wouldn’t be an opportunity for such a thing to arise. She shook her head. No, there wouldn’t be anything like that. There couldn’t be. 

Draco told her point blank that her only purpose was to be used in interrogations, and so far those had been safer than being in London. At least here she was being fed regularly and more than decently. 

Forsythia slammed her head back against the wall, growling again at herself. Draco  _ didn’t  _ care about her. He  _ wasn’t  _ looking out for her, and he  _ certainly _ wasn’t treating her well. Why was it so hard for those things to stick in her head? She cursed him soundly in her head. 

“Don’t fight the bond, lass. I know you’re young, but don’t be stupid.” 

She wished she could tune him out or cast a silencing charm on him. It would be so much easier if she could go back to chastising herself in silence. Even just knowing he was down the line somewhere, probably crushed into a corner as well, was aggravating on its own. Would she ever get a chance to be alone again for any extended period of time?

Her empty holster lay at her feet as a constant reminder of her lack of magic. What she would give to have it back. Then she could apparate and be free of this place. Forsythia lamented its absence. 

A thought struck her. Draco had brought her boots and watch. Maybe he didn’t know her knife was actually the wand she’d gotten when she’d turned eleven; maybe he still had it somewhere and hadn’t destroyed it. She closed her eyes and remembered how the willow wood felt in her hand, how the wand responded to her so quickly and thoroughly that she’d begun practicing unspoken spells in her second year. It wasn’t long after that when her private lessons with the had charms professor started. 

She ached for it. Feeling sad and nostalgic, Forsythia kicked her foot out at the stack of potion bottles she’d collected over the last few days. She missed on purpose, not wanting to make a huge racket, nor did she think any of the Death Eaters would take too kindly to her cell being littered with shards of glass. Draco certainly wouldn’t, she was sure, and the memory of his cruciatus curse made her shiver. That alone was certainly a good bad behavior deterrent. 

Instead, she got up and collected the bottles, lined them up along the front of the cell, and curled back up in the corner. She’d swayed when she walked, and shuddered at the leftover warm tingles from Draco’s blood. Her mind felt addled, slightly off in a way that made it hard to focus fully on any one thing for more than a few minutes at a time. Part of her wondered if they were poisoning her or something. 

“I am young..but I’m not stupid. I can’t tolerate much more of this.”

Jonathan didn’t respond to her, and she guessed their conversation was now over. 

The thought drifted away as she folded in on herself, and the next time she opened her eyes the bottles were gone, and Draco was standing outside her cell watching her with a bemused expression. When their eyes met, his expression hardened, “Your kind don’t sleep, yet every time I come to fetch you, you have your eyes closed.” She shrugged in response, standing and going over to where her mask was on the ground, exactly in the place she’d left it after their last interrogation. 

“Just a moment,” Draco said, and his command drifted through her head. He didn’t want her to don the mask yet. Hand still outstretched, Forsythia paused and looked back at him. Much to her shock, his cheeks were tinged light pink, “You can’t leave wearing that.” 

Offended, Forsythia looked down at her jeans and t-shirt, both of which were torn and had definitely seen better days; not to mention the layer of dirt that covered them as well. She looked back at him, scowling still, “Why not? It’s never mattered before.” 

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her, “We’re not interrogating here, today. I need to make sure you aren’t so easily distinguishable. If the Order does know we’re using  _ you _ as a weapon then I don’t want them-,” he broke off, swallowed hard, and scowled right back at her. She might have imagined it, but she swore there was a knowing, growling chuckle from down the line. Her anger flared, and under it, fear. 

Was this what Jonathan had been talking about? Was this when she’d be expected to protect him with her own life?

“Am I getting a cloak or something then?” She demanded, feeling heated and also very awkward at the idea of him watching her change. Draco nodded once, his jaw set, and from his own cloak he produced a bundle of clothes for her. 

As soon as she took a step towards him his smell enveloped her. Her entire body went hot, and she accidentally grabbed the silver bar in her haste to stay standing. Pain shot through her hand, and she yanked it back to cradle to her chest. It only took a few seconds to heal, though, and then it was good as new. 

Her skin was light pink, the thin runes burned there faintly. It still tingled, but wasn’t as painful as it had been. 

Draco’s expression flashed worriedly as she stumbled a couple steps backwards to keep her balance, “What, are you not healing?” he asked, though when she looked up at him again his expression closed back up. 

His voice had given him away; he wouldn’t be able to fight the bond the way she could, or at least the way she was trying to. It was innately curated to allow the Vampire to have as many bonded humans as possible, but the humans to whom they were bonded would only ever serve the one Vampire. So, he’d be drawn to her much more strongly than she to him. 

She wondered if this was another thing The Dark Lord hadn’t properly taken into account. 

Forsythia cleared her throat, though it did nothing to diminish the pull to be close to him nor the dizziness of his current proximity, “I-uh, got dizzy, I’m fine now. I’ll change my clothes, I guess,” she said, pinching the bridge of her nose and shuffling backwards to give him room to open the bars. He didn’t, though, instead when she looked to him he was hesitating with his wand down at his side. No longer worried now, his eyes narrowed on her suspiciously. 

“If you’re unwell we can’t work tonight. Are you still thirsty?” he asked. 

She shook her head, Jonathan’s words prickling through her mind again. There was no way she’d feed from him directly, at least not if she could help it. Hopefully she wouldn’t be there for long enough to have that happen in the first place.

“I’m fine,” she insisted, shaking her head again to clear it before she made a big show of standing up straight and holding still. 

He only hesitated a moment longer before he gave his wand a lazy wave and entered her cell. The bars closed behind him, and a new fear filled her. They’d never been closed in together, and even when he’d entered it previously she’d barely been conscious. Now, though, she was fully aware, painfully aware, of how close he was to her; how loud his heart was beating in his chest, and the deeply heady scent that clung to his skin. 

Draco’s eyes widened and he paused about a foot from her, the bundle of clothes slightly outstretched. “This is..that bond, isn’t it? This feeling.” he asked, sounding breathless as he regarded her. Still mostly guarded, he didn’t let slip if he was excited or turned off by the idea of the tension between them. Forsythia stayed quiet, cautiously lifting her hand to take the bundle from him. His eyes were down. Submissive. 

“What feeling?” she asked. 

“The, er,” he paused, eyes still down, “I’m not sure how to explain it.” 

Forsythia reached forward until her fingers closed around the fabric, which was cool under her touch. Draco didn’t let it go. The tension increased, and it felt like the room was pushing them closer together. She could feel his breath shift over her head, and their stark difference in height made her shudder. Even when he’d drag her along the building they’d never stood this close together, and certainly not willingly. 

“Look at me.” 

Even though it wasn’t a command, Forsythia lifted her chin enough to meet his eyes. In the hall, the torchlight made them look like liquid silver, but in the slightly darker cell they looked more like moonlit sand. The threads of green shone dark gray, and she felt like at any moment the tension would snap and something bad would happen, though she didn’t know what. 

Draco pushed the clothes into her arms, “Get changed.” 

Like his orders to drink her potion, Forsythia didn’t hesitate to do as he said. Even feeling as awkward as she did about taking her clothes off in front of him, she guessed he wouldn’t care; it’s not like saw her as a  _ person _ , let alone a  _ woman _ . It was comforting when he turned away and lowered his eyes again as she peeled her shirt off, replacing it with the long sleeved top he’d supplied. It felt about a size too big, but once she had it fully covering herself it shrunk down to fit her snuggly. The same thing happened once her jeans were kicked off and the trousers were pulled on. 

His eyes flickered back to her once he heard the zipper of her trousers, though he remained silent as he held out the cloak to her. Forsythia snatched it from him and threw it around herself, shivering as his scent filled her nose once more. 

How long had he been carrying the clothes so close to himself, she wondered. They held his warmth, too, in some places. 

“For this outing,” he said as he waved the bars away, “you’re allowed to have your knife-,” she almost cried out in joy and victory, “-however, if you use it on anybody for any reason other than true self defense, I won’t hesitate to incapacitate you. Is that clear?” 

She nodded, her entire body vibrating at the thought of having her wand back. Apparently she really had gotten lucky and it hadn’t transfigured itself back and he truly hadn’t realized it wasn’t actually a knife.

He rolled his eyes, though he looked rather amused, as she hastily fastened the knife holster high up on her thigh.

Draco glanced at her again, his expression flat, “ _ Put your muzzle on _ , and stop looking so damn pleased.” 

His command was clear, and her expression mirrored his as she bent, scooped the mask, and placed it against her face. The dragonhide helped mask his scent enough to clear her head, and as they stepped from her cell he took her arm. 

Apparating felt incredibly wrong after going so long without doing it. Forsythia hadn’t even realized he’d turned on the spot until it felt like darkness was pressing intensely all around her. Then her feet hit the earth again and she stumbled into him. Draco caught her shoulders and steadied her, his hand bordering on gentle. 

She would have focused on his touch more, but her senses were instantly overwhelmed by the fresh night air, the dark lane they were standing in, the scent of blood somewhere ahead of them. Even with the muzzle on, she could smell it all. Somewhere on her left she could hear the soft breaths of a rabbit, could smell its earthy scent just under the damp lane. 

She nearly jumped sideways when Draco slipped her knife down into its holster. It hadn’t occurred to her that she’d started to hunt, but with the sudden reminder that he was right there next to her, it was easy to pull her senses back in order. They were back out in the world, and she needed to be on high alert. 

Now that she was back to herself, she realized they weren’t alone in the dark. There were masked Death Eaters all around, standing silently and watching them. Draco cleared his throat, dropping his hand from her shoulder and holding tightly to her arm. Again, he was about an inch closer to her elbow than he’d been the last time he led her this way.

A humorless laugh fought its way up her throat as she thought sourly that maybe he’d someday hold her hand instead of her arm, that was if he continued his downward trajectory. 

His head snapped around to look at her, “Eager?” he asked, misunderstanding. 

It was a good cover, so Forsythia nodded, “I can smell the blood from here."

Draco snorted at her, though he, too, sounded humorless. With that, he led her forward down the lane. The other Death Eaters remained silent, and the seven or so of them slowly followed behind her and Draco. It was unnerving having them surround her, and she had to focus back on Draco to keep from freaking out. There were few things she loathed more than feeling like she was being closed in upon. 

She watched from the corner of her eye as Draco reached up and drew his hand down in front of his face. A gleaming silver mask covered him in his hand’s wake. For a moment she was glad his identity wouldn’t be given away. 

_ It’s the bond _ , she thought to herself, shaking her head as if that would clear it. It wasn’t her job to worry about him. All she needed to do was get the information out of whoever they were going to speak with and then she’d be able to go back to her cell, which was starting to feel too comfortable and too safe. 

“You’re being given a great honor tonight. We’re seeing an old professor from Hogwarts. You went there, didn’t you?” Draco’s voice was not muffled by his mask. For a moment, she wasn’t able to answer him. School had felt so long ago, a whole other lifetime, and the thought of seeing a previous professor made her entire body go cold with even more fear. 

His hand tightened and she nodded her confirmation, too afraid to say anything out loud lest she give any of her emotions away; she didn’t want him to see any signs of weakness. The only sound as they moved was the gentle swish of her cloak and the soft crunch of her boots in the lane. 

Part of her wondered if the others had silencing spells woven into their clothing, but then Draco pulled her suddenly through a gap in the hedge on their right and tugged her up a sweeping lawn. Her mind swept along with them. Now they were in a lush garden, gliding up towards a stately house on a low hill to the north of them. 

As they neared the handsome manor house, he glanced back at her and gave her a slow, almost imperceptible nod, “Stay calm.” Whatever was waiting inside for her must have been bad if he was trying to comfort her. 

She only blinked back, and she knew that he didn’t want her to show any sign of what he’d said, so she pretended she hadn’t heard it.

Draco led her up the front steps and through what would be, under different circumstances, an equally handsome front door. The intense scent of fresh blood made her freeze. It wasn’t the same blood she’d smelled in the lane. Something was wrong. Time slowed.

Numbly, she reached down and rested her fingers on the hilt of her knife; if worse came to worse she would risk transfiguring it back. 

Draco looked back at her again, his eyebrows knit together and mouth set as if he was going to order her to move forward. Her feet wouldn't move more than an inch into the now open and dark foyer. 

Without thinking, she reached up and twisted her hand so she was clinging to his sleeve, too, “We shouldn’t..this is..,” her mind started to get hazy. Something in the blood, in the air, something suffocatingly sweet, was very quickly rendering her utterly useless. The dark magic in Hornstrand’s blood was nothing compared to whatever this was; it filled her lungs up like expanding foam. Every breath was scraping, shallow. There was no room for air in her lungs as the substance kept expanding.

White hot pain, like a branding iron, seared through her chest and up into her throat, nose, and eyes. The bones in her fingers creaked warningly as she trapped his sleeve even tighter. They needed to leave, she needed to get away from whatever was happening to her. The pain was blinding, though, too intense to think through properly. 

The front porch started spinning, and the only thing keeping her on her feet was Draco’s tight hand around her arm, holding her just as tightly as she held him.

“What? We shouldn’t what?” Draco demanded, his eyes burning from under the mask. 

She watched through half closed eyes as Draco asked her again, his face swimming in front of her furiously. Something bright red streaked out over his head. Draco ducked, catching her with his free arm and pulling her sideways with him as he swore. 

Her mind cleared for a split second as his eyes flashed with astonished despair. If even he was scared, she knew she should be terrified. It rattled her enough to push them further to the side as more spells burst past them. 

The other Death Eaters were shouting, viciously attacking as they burst forward into the manor. They tripped over somebody who had fallen. Somebody who was now dead. With a hollow pang in her chest, Forsythia immediately thought of nothing but surviving. 

Without thinking, and now that her wand was back in her possession, Forsythia locked her arms around him and stumbled as she turned them on the spot. 


	6. Chapter 6

The darkness squeezed her intensely, and she forced herself to focus on where she wanted to go. Halfway through her apparating them, Draco’s hand locked on her other forearm and tugged her in the opposite direction. She allowed him to pull her, to take the lead until her feet struck stone and he released her from his grip. In their haste to get away from the house, she hadn’t realized he’d grabbed hold of her waist. 

“ _ Stay here. Don’t move _ .” The command forced her feet to lock into place, and she watched as he disapparated with a very loud crack. Her watch ticked softly down at her side, and she waited a full minute before blearily looked around. 

The pain in her chest seared again, and she jerked forward with the force of the pain. Her hands scrambled to grab the tops of her thighs to keep from toppling right over. If only she could breathe. 

She was in a dark interrogation room. Perhaps this was the easiest place to leave her rather than having to fuss with the bars on her cell. He’d gone so quickly there hadn’t been time to tell him she wasn’t okay. Would she die? Would he?

Slowly she realized her entire body was shaking. Whatever had been in the blood wasn’t ebbing, and she could barely stand with the remaining weight of it in her nose and her lungs. As Draco had commanded her to not move, she finally collapsed where she stood. Right before she started retching, she was able to wrench her mask away. It slid across the floor but the sound was swallowed by her being violently sick. 

Wave after wave of it tore through her until it felt like her entire chest cavity was being ripped apart. The muscles and bones all groaned under the stress, but there was no stopping it. She’d been right; whatever had been in the air was erupting from her in frothy surges. The scent of it flooded her, too sweet, too putrid. It only made her retch harder. 

The last of the potion she’d had was gone. She could see it staining the otherwise light colored foam that now covered the floor in front of her. Draco wasn’t back and she didn’t dare use her wand to clean the mess lest he never let her have it again. That was, of course, if he didn’t already know it was her wand. He seemed smart enough, surely he’d figured it out. Forsythia felt delirious. All she could see was Draco’s confused, frightened face and the flash of red. 

Terror filled her. Even though she didn’t need to breathe, she still gasped for clean air as she pushed herself onto her knees. What if something had happened to him? Would she have to start over with another Death Eater? If Draco wasn’t there to be her handler and there weren’t any other Death Eaters available would they let her starve to death? Or, would she end up like Jonathan and have to feed directly from somebody she hated.

Then again, she supposed she hated Draco. Although, maybe not as much as she should. 

Her mind continued to flit from one fear to the next endlessly as she dragged the back of her hand over her mouth, then her palms over her eyes. Her cheeks stung with cold tears.

When she ran out of new fears, it cycled back to the beginning of the list. What if Draco was dead? For some reason, that was the worst situation her brain could create. If she lost him she lost every chance of getting out. 

For the first time in years, Forsythia found herself properly crying. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs, the sound of which was grating and harsh in the otherwise silent room. No matter what she did, she couldn’t calm herself. If she could just get control of herself then she could calm down. It didn’t help, though, when her throat started to burn intensely with thirst. Even if her body had absorbed most of Draco’s blood, now that she was used to getting some almost daily the withdrawal from not having another new potion right on hand was more intense. 

It also didn’t help that whatever foam had filled her lungs was still leaking from her mouth and nose, its sickly sweet smell causing a new wave of nausea warming her unpleasantly. She did everything she could to clear her nose at least, and was certain she looked like a complete mess: tear tracks all down her face mixed with the blood tinged foam. 

Just staying conscious was using up all of her energy, so she certainly didn’t have any to spare when it came to caring about how she looked. 

Her arms shook so badly she could barely keep herself up. Unable to hold up the physical end of the command any longer, Forsythia collapsed down onto her side on the cool floor. She’d narrowly missed the puddle of now slightly smoking blood and foam mixture. 

Where was he? Why wasn’t he back yet? Her mind, though weak, still cycled through all the horrible things that could be happening, and then the equally horrible things that would happen as a result. It felt like the room was spinning around her and it took everything in her not to be sick again. 

The room kept flashing in front of her face, and she realized grimly that she was going in and out of consciousness. It was like starving herself all over again. When she was able to look down, she saw the skin of her outstretched hand was definitely going yellow, but she didn’t have the energy to get up and try to find help. Who would help her? A weak chuckle burned her throat as her eyes slid closed. 

“Thia, come on, I’ll take you to the hospital wing!” Bernadette’s voice was insistent in her ear. Forsythia opened her eyes and startled, jerking away from her friends arms despite being so terrified she wanted nothing more than to cling to her. There was shouting around them, so much shouting. Jets of light bounced around every few seconds, too, just on the edge of her vision. 

Bernadette was hauling her up, her arms locked around her waist as she pulled her away from the shouting. “-Professor Flitwick is going to lose his head-,” Bernadette was saying, tightening her hold and dragging Forsythia along the corridor now that they were out of the classroom. She couldn’t remember what had happened, or why one second the dueling club was in perfect order and the next Seamus Finnegan and James Gourick were at each other’s throats. 

“-swear to god, Thia, Madam Pomfrey will be able to get this fixed, I promise, just hold on-.”

Forsythia was suddenly very aware of the pain in her legs. When she looked down she guessed she’d been hit with a leg lock and something that was causing massive, purple boils to rise up all over her exposed skin. 

She spent the night in the hospital wing, her legs bandaged and smelling strongly of Essence of Dittany. Madam Pomfrey had gotten them unlocked, but the boils were proving to be a bit more of a challenge. Forsythia couldn’t help the pathetic moans that kept bubbling up each time a boil popped, the Dittany flooding the now exposed wound and then healing it with a burst of nearly unbearable heat. 

“ _ Forsythia! _ ” 

She groaned, though the person calling her name wasn’t Bernadette or Madam Pomfrey. Her name was called again, the voice deep and pleading against her ear as she was lifted off the floor; a boy’s voice. “ _ Answer me, Thia, please! _ ” 

Who was calling her that? It had been years since anyone had used her nickname. Usually the men she knew at the pub called her ‘Miss Black’ or just ‘Black’, never ‘Thia’. Nobody called her ‘Thia’. 

The floor of the interrogation room was pressed against her lower half, cold despite her trousers and cloak. Something that was starting to warm her was pressed against her arm and under her lower back, and she could feel that she was half-way lifted up from the floor. Her eyes rolled as she tried to open them. It was bright, too bright to see anything properly. 

The hiss that left her mouth automatically certainly sounded intimidating, but she was held tighter up against somebody’s thigh and torso. Not  _ just  _ somebody, though. 

“Thia, open your eyes.  _ Open your eyes and look at me! _ ” 

The command was impossible to ignore, and even though the light was absolutely burning her eyes she listened. Wide, terrified gray eyes searched anxiously over her face. Draco was bent over her, a new cut in his cheek and his hair pushed back like he’d run his hand through it too many times. The second her eyes locked onto his, a very soft feeling rushed through her. 

He was okay. He’d returned. She wouldn’t have to start over with a new person. 

There was another cut, one that was shorter and thinner, through his eyebrow. His blood dripped down towards his eye, though there were already smeared marks on his temple where he’d brushed it away previously. Having half a mind to reach up and catch the drop, Forsythia instead asked, “What happened?” her voice a whisper; she barely heard herself over his still ragged breathing. 

Draco’s face relaxed some at the sound of her voice and his grip on her shoulders slackened, “It was a trap. The professor was an Order member using polyjuice potion. The second it wore off they set off some kind of silent alarm and then..well, you saw.

“I didn’t know you could apparate. None of the other Vampires have ever been able to.” 

His statement hung in the air, and she had no idea what to say to him. His eyebrows pushed together again and his eyes widened in worry, “ _ Forsythia, stay awake _ .” A new bead of blood squeezed from the cut above his eye. The scent was easy to ignore with how much pain she was still in. She groaned at his command, even tried to slide away from him, but he held her fast, “Relax, relax. Tell me what’s wrong. Did you get hit?” he asked, wincing when she did like he was hurt, too. 

It took her a moment to shake her head, “N-No, something was in the air, in the blood, that’s what..,” she trailed off, not sure how to explain to him formally that she’d thrown up the rest of the meal he’d provided and then panicked because he was too far away from her. Their bond was getting dangerous, but she had no way to convey this to him without giving away her still in-progress plan to escape. She knew she needed their bond as much as she resented it. 

Draco nodded, though, his lips pressed together in a tight line, “I know, I saw that you were sick again. We don’t know exactly what it was, possibly a response to Hornstrand telling them about you. Do you..,” he paused, looking awkward, “do you need something to be able to walk?” 

Forsythia shrugged, then nodded, hoping he had an emergency phial of potion in his cloak. To her shock and terror, he rolled up the sleeve of his left arm and drew the tip of his wand over the skin just under a dark tattoo. A snake entwined around a skull. She tried not to focus on it and instead shivered against him, “N-No-not, not like that. I can-I can, I can walk, I’m fine-,” but the smell already hit her, stronger now. 

With all her strength, she tried to push away from him, to warn him somehow that once this started neither of them would be able to go back to the regular potion deliveries; that their bond would only strengthen faster. If she put her mouth on him, it would be over. Their bond would probably solidify, and she knew if that happened right now things might escalate too quickly for her to keep a grasp on. Once it was done, escaping might mean nothing. Most of this, she was just guessing on. Then again, Jonathan did say they were doing whatever it took to make sure the Vampires wouldn’t be able to abuse the bond. 

If it formed as a shock instead of being properly planned or able to be tracked then it certainly would be difficult to keep the upper hand on it. Maybe that was their secret: have the bond come on fast and strong so they would get too caught up to be able to use it properly. It took too much energy to think about when she was so empty, and she refocused on fighting Draco off. 

Even though she was physically pushing him away, he simply held her tighter. “It’s fine, I’ll make you stop if you go too far. I need you to be able to walk, I can’t carry you through the third floor there are too many people. There would be too many questions.” 

He was speaking quickly now, hurrying through everything like he was admitting more than he should. 

She understood, of course. Even if they were bonded, she guessed physical affection would be inappropriate considering she was just his...pet. Play thing? Tool? Forsythia shuddered at each new label that came to her. 

He wrestled her back into his lap and locked her in place. Given her weak state she guessed this was very easy for him, or at least he’d made it seem as such. She tried desperately again to knock his hands away from her, but he was much stronger than she was in that moment. 

With one hand locking her head sideways against his chest, he squeezed her forward against his steadily dripping wrist. The second his undiluted blood touched her lips all resolve was lost. Every plan for escape disappeared. It hit her fast and hard.

They were the only two people that existed, and the second she laved her tongue over the wound she jerked to hold him in place. Imperceptibly, he shivered. 

Their roles switched as he no longer had to hold her to him. His blood was, without any doubt, the best she’d ever had. Its heat burned away any lingering anxiety. She could feel herself getting stronger as she drank from him, though she didn’t realize at what point she went from passively lying slumped back in his lap to sitting up and actively leaning into his chest. If he minded, he didn’t say anything. 

She relaxed into him, feeling the pull to stay as closely pressed to him as possible. Other thoughts rushed through her, and she was surprised when Draco let out a soft breath of a hum as she shifted into him. 

“ _ Enough. _ I’ll bring you a potion in the morning. You need to rest.” 

She leaned back from him, nearly collapsing again as the room spun for a different reason. If the potions had been intoxicating, his blood on its own was exhilarating. Even with his command it was incredibly difficult to let go of his arm, though he gave her a few seconds to do so before he stood. He drew his wand over the wound again, winced, and then tugged his sleeve back down. 

Forsythia shakily got to her feet, startling as Draco held the muzzle up to her face suddenly. As he had after Hornstrand’s interrogation, he held it an inch from her, waiting for her to close the gap. She blinked at him, trying to read his expression as he watched her right back. Was it some kind of game to him? Or did he get off on her being complicit. 

He looked from her to the muzzle, an eyebrow quirking up, “Thia...” 

He said her name like it was a secret he shouldn’t know, like it was something he overheard from somebody else and was nervous about her hearing it from him. With a sigh, she moved forward and pressed her face into it. A hint of a smile ghosted over his face, but the second she saw it, it vanished.

The burn in her throat had eased, but there was still pain in her chest. Whatever had been released into the air had seriously injured her. It felt like the tissue in her lungs was burnt.  _ Probably was powdered silver _ , she thought to herself. Though she’d never experienced such a thing, the burn of it was familiar enough, and whatever it had been was certainly dangerous for her. 

Even with Draco’s blood, the thought of which made her stomach swoop dangerously, she still felt weak and feverish. Hopefully he’d take her down to her cell and leave her for a very, very long time so she’d be able to heal properly. If she could heal properly. 

He took her arm and, half holding her upright, led her back out into the hall. 

When he’d said there were too many people around for him to carry her, he wasn’t kidding. The room was packed with both Death Eaters and other masked Vampires. Several of them had wounds varying in severity, the scent of their blood harsh in the air. It seemed that most of the wounded were Vampires, and Jonathan’s words echoed in her head again.  _ They’d _ taken the curses surely meant for the Death Eaters. 

She’d apparated Draco away from the trap. It wasn’t anything comparable to taking a curse by any means, but it was still more than she should have done. Even having just fed from him she felt herself swell with blistering hatred for the man holding her arm. It was too brief for her to revel in, due in part to her extreme lack of energy. 

The Vampires who weren’t injured were fighting their handlers, yanking their chains and growling and hissing from behind their masks. They were weak, though, as she was. Their struggles were in vain. 

Without meaning to, she locked eyes with a Vampire as they passed. Unlike the others, he was standing stock still with his hands behind his back. He stared right back at her, recognition shooting through his expression. He knew her. Forsythia watched as he held her gaze for just a moment longer before he lowered his chin, eyes downcast to the floor. Submission. 

She knew him just as much as he knew her. He was a regular at Fire and Fauna. Forsythia ran through the information she knew about him, her stomach twisting into dangerous knots: Axium Lekaron, age fifty-seven, turned when he was also seventeen. His black hair was usually incredibly curly, his blue eyes with just the tiniest hint of their original green. 

In the lobby, though, he was too thin, his hair lank, his eyes dead and black. The mask on his face did nothing to conceal the fact that he had blood dripping all down his chin. There were droplets of it on his cheeks and the front of his exposed neck, too. 

She knew him, and he’d just shown his loyalty to her in front of a large audience. Every Vampire within a ten foot radius of them jerked up, whispers shivering through the air just low enough that the Death Eaters wouldn’t hear them. 

“Forsythia Black is here!” 

“Black is alive?” 

“She’s with the Malfoy boy.” 

“Forsythia Black?” 

Heads bowed, and silence fell on them once more. She knew many of them, so many it made her stomach twist with agony. Draco had been right, it certainly looked like all of the others she usually saw were present: Davey Williams, George Hatt, Anton Turner, Lawrence Bullara, Victor Pegany, and more she couldn’t recognize by name but knew by their faces. They’d all caught sight of her and lowered their heads, though. 

Forsythia swallowed hard, some things never changed. 

The bow was a respect thing, a submissive thing, of course. Essentially, the men around the room were showing quite plainly that they aligned themselves with her, that they still saw her as  _ their  _ female. 

In their culture, being that very thing was the best position one could find themself in. It meant a full coven of more than willing guardsmen. Typically, covens only formed when a particularly old Vampire collected enough strays or made their own. However, those of them that lived more on the outskirts of their societies banded together, even casually. 

The pub was home base for one such casual group, and Forsythia ended up as the only woman apart. She’d not allowed such absurd treatment while out in the world, but it seemed being locked up had made the men forget what she preferred. She’d gone right back to being the woman of the coven. The leader. The dam. She nearly gagged from the added stress. 

As the youngest and only, they’d all just shown her that she was at the top of the pecking order. She’d be protected if, say, Draco decided to turn on her in front of them. It was their duty as the men to keep her, the youngest, safe and out of harm’s way. 

It was uncomfortable, to say the least. Forsythia didn’t need saving or protecting, particularly not when doing anything of the sort could result in whichever one of them was stupid enough to try stepping in dying. Or worse. 

Imperceptibly, she shook her head at them. They needed to snap out of it before somebody saw their little display. What would the humans around them think? Forsythia didn’t want to find out. 

The Death Eaters hadn’t noticed, they all continued to shout and call out to each other as they no longer had to fight to keep their charges still. In their arrogance, they thought they’d done it on their own. They had no idea what had just happened, and absolutely no idea that they were all deer in a den full of blood thirsty lions who would do whatever she said without question. 

As soon as she couldn’t look at Axium any longer, the tension broke and the Vampires went back to shifting anxiously again. There wasn’t anything she could do to help them. Not yet. They’d need to wait and bide their time if something was to be done. 

Despair filled her until she thought she’d be sick again as Draco continued dragging her along, none the wiser to what had just happened. They made it down the stairs before she had to stop, nearly collapsing again. 

Draco tried to press his wrist to her mouth again, against her teeth, but she snarled at him and struggled so hard she started to black out. In a fit of frustration, lifted her over his shoulder after shoving her mask back onto her face and apparated them from the bottom of the stairs to just in front of her cell. The bars were still gone, and he carried her inside though he didn’t set her down. 

Her tantrum was over, having taken herself to the brink of passing out and unable to fight him further. Now, all of her energy was focused on not grabbing onto him, slipping the muzzle off, and biting anywhere she could reach. It was easier to rest in his arms, to lean into him with her cheek pressed against the back of his shoulder. 

His smell teased her, but at least the mask would prevent her from actually biting if she could just leave it on. As if to discourage her further, the mask gave a warning shock that made her jerk in his arms. Thoughts of what had happened upstairs melted away from her. It was just she and Draco now. The only two people in the world. 

“You don’t..I’ve just realized you don’t have a bed. Do you need something to..” He seemed at a loss of words. 

Already he’d made it clear that he knew she didn’t sleep, but asking if she wanted anything that could be a comfort would have made her heart stop if it hadn’t already. Their bond was certainly strong despite being so new; it was terrifying. Just a few days really had passed and he was already being  _ nice _ to her, not to mention everything else.

His awkwardness intensified. She could feel that he didn’t know what to do with her now that he was standing with her still in his arms in her empty cell. He was right, of course, there was nowhere for her to sit or lay other than the floor. Apparently this was suddenly very offensive to him because he shifted her against him and flicked his wand. 

In the corner where she usually smashed herself into the wall, popped a bed. It was small, seemingly only having room for her, but even for somebody who didn’t sleep it looked like the best thing that had ever happened to her. 

“I’ll need your knife back.” 

Draco gently set her down on the bed, his hands lingering on her as she settled. Forsythia nodded knowing it was bound to happen, and with his blood already starting to lose its efficacy the more she tried to control herself, she had no energy left to fight him. 

He started to reach over her then froze, hand hovering over her waist, “Is it alright if I take it?” His voice was barely a grumble. 

Forsythia nodded again, teeth locked together and hands balled into fists at her side as his hand resumed its path to her thigh. Gentle again, he brushed her cloak away from her leg then unclasped the holster. She almost cried at the loss of it.

It must have been clear in her face because Draco’s expression went blank, “You’ll be safe in here even without it. It’s only by my wand or on my direct instruction that anybody can open the bars.”

She curled away from him, leaving the muzzle and her boots on. Afterall, as soon as he left she’d take them off anyway. There was a beat of silence before, much to her surprise, Draco reached down and untied her shoes, then once they were removed and placed by the foot of her bed, he moved to take her mask off. With the last bit of strength she’d gotten from him, she forced herself to stay still and not grab for him once it was off. 

“Are you alright? I mean, will you be okay to stay here tonight on your own?”

Forsythia shrugged. The pain had eased overall, but her lungs were still tender. 

His eyebrows squeezed together in concern, “I’m going to have you moved somewhere else first thing tomorrow. I’ll get a portkey set up tonight for you to take. You’re too valuable now to be far away from me in a cell.” 

“I don’t mind it.”

Her tone was harsh as she spoke through her teeth but it was the only way to keep herself under enough control not to go after him. Her fangs were already pressing insistently into her lower lip. She felt like they were close to having a complete bond and there would be nothing she would do to jeopardize keeping it under her thumb; she was subordinate to it now, sure, but she still needed to pace their progress. 

Draco blinked, confusion plain on his face, “You want to stay here?” 

_ Please just leave _ , she begged silently, tightening her fists until it felt like her nails would tear into her palms. Her silence only intensified his concern and growing frustration. 

“I’m having you moved. That’s final.” 

With that, he left her. The soft pop of his disappiration barely reached her ears under the metal lattice grinding into place. 

If she could hold on until they were fully bonded, which she estimated vaguely would take another two or three feeds from him, then maybe she could start influencing him to let her go. She had no experience with this, and hoped her gut feeling would lead her in the right direction with him. More than anything, she needed to stay on top of the bond so she could anticipate it. As long as she stayed in control, then it wouldn’t catch her off guard. 

Her own emotions were shut off, locked away, so she would only focus on the task at hand; force Draco to become her protector instead of the other way around. If she could just get that switched then she could convince him that she’d be safer back out in London, far, far away from this new and deadly world.

With her emotions sealed away, Forsythia checked herself over now that she was calm again. No broken bones, no strained muscles, no wounds. Well, none on the outside of her body anyway. Experimentally, she took in a slow breath. Pain prickled through her lungs, but it was manageable now that she’d had something to eat. Or drink, rather. 

-*-

There were whispers all around her that night once the rest of the Vampires were brought back down, too. She heard one Death Eater snarl at another that he was glad to be rid of his charge for a few days. The other agreed. 

Up and down the row messages of her proximity were passed along in the same shimmering whispers as before. As she’d guessed, she was the only woman they’d captured. To her displeasure, Jonathan Francis-Curt let it slip that she was at the end of the row. 

“Forsythia? Can you hear me?” Axium was only two cells away from her. Whoever was right next door repeated his question. She thought maybe it had been Victor, but she’d not seen or heard him in at least a year, so it was hard to be certain.

“I can hear you. Please leave me alone.” 

Silence. 

“What’s the plan? How are we getting out?” 

Silence. 

“Oi, stupid cunt! Answer the lad!” Jonathan Francis-Curt was so loud his handler came tumbling down the stairs to crucio him only moments later. His screams echoed louder than his previous jab, and once it was quiet and his handler was gone again after threatening the entire floor, there was another shimmer. 

“Are you hurt, Miss Black?” 

“No.”  _ Please leave me alone, _ she begged silently. Fear was gripping her so tightly she truly thought she might be sick again. What if Draco came down and cursed her? She couldn’t risk him coming back to her when she was still so thirsty. 

“Do you have a plan?” 

Silence.

“Miss Black,  _ epulemur inimicorum nostrorum _ .” 

Axium had said the one thing he knew she wouldn’t be able to not ignore. It was their way, their greeting. Even though she hadn’t been  _ born  _ like Axium had been, and didn't have his perfect pronunciation, it was what she had to do to let them know that, despite her sour attitude, she was still one of them. Like a hook had slipped down her throat, her response was pulled up without hesitation.

“ _ Oro est vero _ , Ax. Hush before somebody else gets tortured because you can’t keep your mouth shut.”

“Yes, Miss Black.” he responded gently, appeasing her, submissive again. She couldn’t help but snort. 

In their casual coven, the chain of command ran from her to Ax then dispersed down through the others who hung around. She and Axium were the only two that stuck around for more than a week or two every few months, thus they had the highest ranks. He was her right hand, essentially, and she trusted him over almost anyone else. 

Ax had been the first of her kind she’d met after she changed. He’d been kind, sweet, even, as he took her into the pub and had her set up with a private room. Ax took care of her, and in turn she became their dam. Of course, it was all very casual and she’d never changed somebody herself, but that didn’t matter so much. Ax made sure her needs were met, and that was that. 

The silence was too deafening, and she turned over her shoulder and said softly, “I’m glad you’re okay.” 

“I’m better now that I know you’re here.” 

His response made her sigh to herself. She knew how he felt about her and yet she couldn’t bring herself to even try anything with him. It wasn’t right. Sure, he could sire but then they’d have to properly form a coven and go through the trouble of that. There would be so much pressure, so much responsibility on them both. Forsythia preferred to stay as on her own as she could manage, and he always respected that. 

“Malfoy’s moving me tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll see you again.” 

“I will always find you, Miss Black. Do not worry about that for a single moment.” 

Her chest tightened, “Don’t find me if it means you’ll be punished. I’ll..I’ll find a way to get us out.” She’d tried so hard to sound determined and unwavering. 

“There isn’t a way out. We will have to endure and outlive this war.”

Forsythia chewed her lower lip and willed herself not to cry. It felt like her last shred of hope was being ripped to pieces, flimsy as it had been in the first place. She couldn’t bring herself to respond to Ax again; it was too painful. It was likely she’d never see him or any of the other Vampires again, and she’d have to make peace with that. Whatever she needed to do to survive this, to get out alive and in one piece, she would forgive herself for. 

She repeated that to herself until she was numb to the fact that the men in the cells next to her were relying on her to show them the way; to order them to fight or lay in waiting. She could do neither. They needed to figure out their own plans and stop putting their lives in the hands of a technically underaged girl. 

With a wry smile, she thought nastily that Jonathan Francis-Curt could take over her position and solve this predicament himself. 

-*-

At eight the next morning, the same watery eyed rat man from before appeared in front of her cell. “The young Malfoy has sent me to collect and move you.” 

He didn’t offer anything else, and despite her growing annoyance with Draco and the stress from the previous night, it was a little amusing to hear the fear in the man’s voice when he’d said his name. She took a certain amount of pride in Draco being intimidating; it just meant he’d be that much more protective once the bond was fulfilled.

Forsythia slipped her mask and boots on before getting up out of bed and waiting while he waved the bars away. She watched, amused again, as his eyes stayed anxiously upon her. 

“I won’t bite.” 

The sound of her voice made him start, and she wanted to laugh as he nearly leapt backwards from her. It was too amusing to see how much he feared her. 

“R-Right. Well, this way,” he responded, his voice catching in his throat. With a little jerk, he made to grab her forearm but seemed to think better when she raised an eyebrow and turned her body away from him. At least when Draco led her around like a show pony he wasn’t afraid of her. 

Instead, for the first time, she apparently was allowed to walk along behind him on her own, though she didn’t dare to put more than two feet of space between them. What if he was also generous with curses? 

As she passed the other cells, she let her eyes flicker subtly into them. Ten pairs of too-blue eyes per cell stared back at her, then dropped dutifully to the floor. Each cell had ten men in it, and with a total of seven cells lining the wall she realized their numbers were far greater than she’d anticipated; sixty-one including herself.

Some of the eyes she knew, like the men from before she’d picked out of the crowd. Many of them she didn’t, though they respected her without question. Bloody geezers. Forsythia felt bad, of course, because she was technically supposed to help them, or free them, or do anything to make the situation better. But as she moved past each passing cell, she tried to forgive herself with each step. 

The last cell, the furthest one from hers, held only one man who did not drop his eyes. 

Instead, he glared at her, his mask on and arms folded over his chest as he watched her from the furthest corner of the cell. She guessed that was Jonathan Francis-Curt, but she was around the corner and on the stairs before she could confirm. 

She would forgive herself for now, though she knew at some point she’d have to properly figure out what to do with them all. Perhaps an opportunity would arise in which she could free them. Once her bond with Draco completed itself, she’d have to see about looping him into helping her with them. That was, of course, if she found that she  _ could _ trust him. 

The man walked her up past the third floor to the fifth, and once there, took her down a narrow hallway. He led her through a set of double doors up to a tall desk where a very bored looking black haired witch sat tapping her fingernails with her wand; with each tap her nails turned a new, bright color. 

The room was otherwise empty, though along the back wall there was a row of doors, each numbered from one through five. The witch at the desk tapped away, apparently unperturbed that she was now being watched. 

“Hello, Genevieve. I believe Malfoy has a portkey set up to use in four minutes?” 

The witch still didn’t look up from her nails when she responded, “Rusty kettle in room two.” 

Forsythia looked between the man and the witch before he inclined his head in what she guessed was supposed to be a respectful bow, then indicated to her to go through the door marked ‘2’ on her right.

He followed her into the room, which was much smaller than the interrogation rooms, and indeed housed a very rusty kettle on a wooden table just inside the door. “Take the portkey. He explained that he will meet you when you arrive.” 

With that, he snapped the door closed. There was a menacing sounding clunk as a lock was set in place. Forsythia tried not to allow her nerves to get the better of her as she waited, hand closed around the handle of the kettle.

She wondered where Draco was having her sent. He’d said that she was too valuable to be in a cell, but why? Sure, she’d apparated them away from the manor house before either of them could be too seriously injured, but that was only one occurrence. There hadn’t been any other opportunity for her to  _ prove her loyalty _ or anything equally as ridiculous. Not that she would be proving any kind of loyalty to begin with. 

If she was honest, having to work with Draco in this way, essentially torturing information out of people, was incredibly against her usual code of ethics, and was starting to wear on her. She knew if she could sleep, she probably would have started having nightmares. If not of the interrogations, then of the eyes looking out at her from the dark cells as she passed them. Forsythia highly doubted any of them would be carted off to a safer location anytime soon. 

She pushed the thoughts of them away. Axium was a strong man, he’d be fine. Jonathan Francis-Curt was sharp as a knife fresh off the grinding stone. The others she knew fell into line between the two of them. As for the others...she didn’t let herself think of them. They weren’t weak the way she was, weak meaning young. They  _ were _ dark creatures, having had decades to settle into their new lives. She was practically a toddler falling over herself at every possible turn. 

There was a sharp tug in her stomach that wrenched her from her thoughts and then the entire world was spinning harshly around her. Despite trying to brace herself, she managed to topple forward onto her knees as soon as her feet hit the earth once more. The kettle went sprawling, clanging as it met the hard ground. 

The sun was weak, though it still made her wince as it prickled across her skin. With her hand shading her eyes, she pushed herself up and looked around. She was standing in the otherwise empty back garden of what looked like a private row house, though she couldn’t see any neighbors over the large hedge that enclosed the garden.There was barely enough time to blink before the back door creaked open and Draco poked his head out looking surly. 

From what she could see, he was in his usual black, long sleeved top and matching black trousers. No cloak, but heavy dragonhide boots glimmered just in the shadow of the door. She squinted at him and fought the urge to spit the venom that had pooled on her tongue out of her mouth. 

“At least Wormtail did one thing correctly. Come out of the sun and take that wretched thing off.” he said, stepping aside so she could enter and indicated her mask. Her moment of hesitation didn’t go unnoticed, and Draco’s frown only deepened. She carefully slipped it off and he snatched it away from her as she squeezed past him. 

There was barely enough room between his chest and the door frame for her to fit through. 

For being such a highly ranked general, he certainly struck her as rather stupid. Who in their right mind would tell a ravenously thirsty Vampire to take off the only thing standing between them and a sharp set of fangs? She locked her jaw together just in case her thirst made her do anything rash. Afterall, her entire escape plan relied on him trusting her. 

He’d let her directly into a wide kitchen, all gleaming white and silver in the watery light. The entire house was bathed in his scent. Forsythia swayed as it took over all of her senses before she felt his ringless hand tight on her arm, “You must be thirsty.” 

His voice made her jump, and it seemed that that only fueled his correct assumption. Of course she was thirsty; she was standing in the middle of his kitchen surrounded by his smell. Who wouldn’t be? 

With a swish of his wand, a potion bottle appeared on the counter next to her hand, uncorked. She gave him a quick glance before she downed it, very pleased to not be a shaky mess once it was gone. 

“I had Severus brew enough blood replenishing potions to keep you satisfied for at least this week. I’ll bring more when we go in for interrogations. He said you should have at least one a day if not more.”

Severus? Had the potions master been making these for her all this time? Forsythia scowled. Even though she’d been in his house at school, Professor Snape never struck her as a person to do favors for anybody but himself. Wouldn’t it have been more in character of him to demand that Draco brew his own potions? 

“I’m certain you have questions.” 

Draco had half-turned from her, his eyes set somewhere over her shoulder as he folded his arms across his chest. 

“Why did you move me away from the others?” 

Her question hung in the kitchen, and Forsythia was annoyed at her own lack of discipline. Why couldn’t she have just waited for a better time to ask? Or, better, asked not so bluntly?

Draco, still not looking at her, froze. Apparently he had also assumed she wouldn’t have dove headfirst into his invitation.

His gaze slid to meet hers, “After what happened at Nottingham, at the manor, The Dark Lord gave his approval to move you somewhere safer. You proved your loyalty-,” she scowled deeper at that, “-enough to make losing you more of a burden than previously anticipated. 

“So, the only place safer than the holding cells at Oak Grove, would be here. The Dark Lord agrees that you should be kept closer to me, more convenient for me to access, in case another ambush occurs.” 

They looked at each other for a moment before she looked around the kitchen questioningly.

He swallowed hard, cheeks barely tinged pink, “Here, of course, being my home.” 


	7. Chapter 7

There it was.

“Why do I need to be kept safe? You said my cell wouldn’t let anybody but you in.” She challenged. 

His expression went icy, “I understand that your simple mind can’t begin to comprehend all of the things you’re expected to do for me, but I will try to speak in small words so you can understand. You,” he pointed at her, speaking in a mocking tone, “are to keep me,” he indicated himself, “safe. If bad people see that you are who keeps me safe, they will kill you and I will not be safe any longer. Make sense?” 

Forsythia was stunned, too offended to even be angry for a moment. As soon as her rage flared, though, she knew she was extremely lucky he’d taken her mask; it would have shocked the absolute hell out of her. All she wanted was to fly at him across the kitchen and rip his throat out. At least then she could just run out the front door and figure out how to get back to London. 

“Don’t even think about it, I won’t hesitate to curse you.” he snapped. Could he read her mind or was her expression just that telling? 

“Better keep your wand close, then. Would hate to catch you without it.” she snapped right back. If he wanted to be nasty, then she could play that game, too, and well. Afterall, nobody had ever beat her in a verbal altercation, and she certainly wouldn’t let Draco Malfoy be the first. 

His eyes narrowed darkly, but she watched with a sick sort of amusement as he tightened his grip on his wand, “You don’t even realize how lucky you are to be assigned to me.” 

“ _ How lucky I am _ ?” she demanded, “Let’s trade positions then and see how much you like being cradled like a baby one minute then shouted at and treated like garbage the next!” 

“If you think me shouting at you is being treated like garbage then you’re even more stupid than I thought!” 

“Why are you being such a wanker? Everything was fine last night!” 

“Because you almost got yourself killed right in front of me and-!” He stopped short, looking mortified while his heart hammered. They both stared at each other, Forsythia too shocked at his admission and Draco seemingly in the same boat.

Had his assertion been a frustrated mistake, or had he been influenced by their growing bond? It wasn’t like she formally knew how to influence him or anything, but maybe if she wanted something bad enough he’d give in. It was simple, she’d wanted to know why he was being a right arse, and he told her. 

It was clear, though, now. He was being rude because he had been worried about her, still was, it seemed. Forsythia leaned back against the counter and watched his expression closely. For a moment, he only looked shocked, then slowly his expression darkened until he was surly once more, bordering on pouting. He was calm, though, his heart fluttering back down rather quickly to a normal rhythm. 

“I’m in charge of you and I will move you to wherever pleases me.” 

He could say whatever he wanted, her mind was already busy whirring away. To Forsythia, it made sense that he would want her closer, too, even if he didn’t say it out loud. There was no way she was the only one feeling the affect of their quickly forming bond, that much was clear. 

Sourly, she wondered at what point they would be far along enough to not feel the pull to be close. Even then, standing several feet apart in his white kitchen and being as annoyed with him as she was, she felt like she should be nearer to him. 

Because the kitchen was so bright, it made all of his scars, even the now light pink ones in his eyebrow and across his cheek, look softer somehow. Like they were decades old instead of just years. It struck her, then, that they were the same age, which for some reason made a sudden surge of despair freeze her internally. How could somebody so young be so scarred? She reminded herself again that the only reason she cared so much was just the bond. 

They made quite the pair, at least physically. With seemingly his entire body being a road map of battles and skirmishes, and her Vampire status, they could run to be the world’s most intimidating duo. She snorted. 

For the first time, she looked him over properly. Even though he was still wearing his all black “work” clothes, he seemed more comfortable and relaxed in the kitchen than he ever had in the cells, Oak Grove, he’d called it. He even hunched slightly as he leaned back against the sink, pureblood posture forgotten. Less intimidating. He was, unfortunately, very attractive.

“Thank you for bringing me here.” 

She didn’t know why she thanked him, but something made her feel like it was the right thing to do. Afterall, he’d been accidentally vulnerable with her, so she thought it important to repay the favor. Even though she’d said she wanted to stay in the cell, she’d take a house over it any day, even if she was sharing with him. At least in the house she wouldn’t be tormented by the others. 

It opened up a lot of opportunity, though, for them to grow closer, especially if he’d be letting her feed directly again. And really, in the end wasn’t she just trading one prison for another? 

Draco cocked an eyebrow at her, a hint of a smirk on his face. “Don’t thank me. You’re the one who apparated us out of the manor before-,” he stopped short, lips set together in a hard line and cheeks burning now. 

Forsythia nodded awkwardly, “Before either of us were seriously hurt. That’s part of the..part of the bond, I think. I knew something was wrong so I tried to take us away from it.” 

“Where were you trying to go, exactly?” 

“London. Somewhere in London.” 

He looked intrigued, “Why London? What’s there?” 

“I hid there well before. There’s a pub, Fire and Fauna. The owner lets me stay there sometimes. It’s a, er,  _ my  _ kind of place.” 

His intrigue grew, though he said nothing despite looking very much like he wanted to question her more. The silence stretched until he reached blindly for the cabinet to his right, pulled it open and revealed the potions he’d mentioned earlier. 

“These are here. Don’t try to leave the house without my permission or I’ll be alerted. The wards I have up will also alert me if anyone turns up here that’s not supposed to be. Clear?” 

Something in his tone sent ice through her. Did he know about the men? The memory of their whispered conversation rushed through her ears; dozens of pairs of too-blue eyes glared at her out of the darkness. Axium promised he’d always find her. 

Draco gave her a measured look, “Don’t pass out in my kitchen, you’ll make quite a mess.” 

Forsythia jerked back to herself, blinking at him like she’d forgotten that he was there at all. So she was to be his live-in security guard of sorts. Part of her missed the cell, but at the thought of Jonathan prying into the details of her bond with Draco, or regaling her with stories of past lovers, suddenly being in a quiet house didn’t seem so bad. It certainly eased her guilt not having to see all of those eyes drop down when she met them. No, she couldn’t help them, not yet. It was better not to weigh herself down with that responsibility.  _ Not yet. _

Maybe prison was too strong of a word for what the rowhouse would be. 

“I had a room prepared. My house elf, Hisky, can be summoned by you if you need anything. I’ll show you-,” he froze, yanking back his left sleeve and staring at the tattoo there while his jaw tightened, “-I’ll have her show you.” 

With that, and one fleeting glare from him, he disapparated silently. As if summoned by the simple passing mention of her name, the house elf popped into view at the edge of the kitchen. “Miss, Master Draco is wanting me to show you the house now.” 

Forsythia blinked down at the tiny elf. She’d only ever seen the ones in the kitchen at school. Hisky was much smaller than the elves at Hogwarts, and only rose to her knee. Her face was wide and open, and her protuberant eyes a shocking shade of green. She gave her a weak smile, but the elf did not smile back. 

“Right, okay. That’d be great, Hisky. You don’t have to call me miss. My name’s For-..Thia. You can call me Thia.” The elf’s eyes somehow became rounder, “Y-Yes, Miss Thia. Please let Hisky show you the house, now.” Deciding that was as close as she was going to get, Forsythia agreed and let the whole ‘miss’ issue go. There were more important things to worry about. 

The elf reached hesitantly up and took her hand, which she allowed, then led her through the kitchen and into the dark hallway, then to the left into a much larger sitting room, “This is where the majority of the books is, Miss. Master Draco says you can be reading if you like,” she squeaked, pulling Forsythia along before she had much time to do more than inhale the soft scent of books and leather arm chairs. Back into the darkness of the hall they went. 

“These is the downstairs drawing rooms. Master Draco is not using them for sitting, just has some portraits stored here.” Hisky was certainly very strong for being so small, but Forsythia was fine allowing her to bring her around the house, which seemed much larger on the inside than she’d thought it would be. 

She then showed her the downstairs bathroom, which Forsythia didn’t have the heart to tell her she wouldn’t need, then along to the staircase at the furthest side of the house and up to her new bedroom. Vaguely, she mentioned another bathroom further down the hall, but opened up the room that was to be hers without saying much more. 

The inside had minimal furnishings: a large four poster bed dressed in dark gray linens, a closed wardrobe, and two chairs set against the far wall in front of a very full bookcase. Next to the bookcase, a very grand but very empty brick fireplace. From where they stood at the door, she caught the gold title of  _ Hogwarts, A History _ glittering at her from a top shelf. She almost snorted.  _ As if _ she’d need to do any sort of studying while she was with him. 

“Miss Thia, Hisky is supposed to tell you, too, that Master Draco will send for you when you needs to go to him at Oak Grove. He says Hisky is in charge of bringing you to him if he calls.” The elf’s eyes were still wide, her long ears plastered back against her head as she looked up at Forsythia nervously. 

She gave her another grin, “That’s good, Hisky, thank you. When you have a moment, could you bring me one of the potions from downstairs? Draco said I need to have one soon.” That sounded a lot nicer than ‘please, sweet elf, bring me something to drink before I frenzy so hard I may never come back to myself’. It was also nicer than ‘I need to hurry along our blood bond so I can manipulate your master into doing my bidding’. 

Hisky popped away, reappearing only a moment later with the potion in hand. The elf handed her the bottle, gave a low bow and popped away again. 

The silence was comforting. She knew she’d originally dismissed the bathroom, but there probably was a shower and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d had one. Even if her smell was usually well regulated, and her hair and skin wouldn’t get oily, something about having the option to be in hot water made the idea of it more appealing. Maybe she was just touch starved.

More than anything, she was starting to feel sickly again. Even though she’d had his blood the night prior, and a potion before he’d left, her body was already needing more. Now that he was away and not distracting her from herself, too, her thirst was that much more apparent. 

Before she made any decision about finding her way back to the shower, Forsythia leaned back against the door until it clicked closed, unstoppered the potion, and downed it in a few gulps. Of course now that she’d fed directly from him, the potions only took the edge of her thirst off. It was enough, however, to help her feel more stable once it was gone. Now empty, she pushed the cork back into it and set it gently on the floor just outside the door. 

After her shower, she’d grab it and take it downstairs to the kitchen, where she guessed the empty bottles were supposed to be left. 

As quietly as she could, she sat by the bookshelf and removed her boots, then draped her cloak over the back of the chair before padding back into the hallway. She didn’t want to be a loud houseguest on top of being a particularly sharp one, too. Hisky told her there was another bathroom upstairs, and had motioned vaguely towards the door next to her room, so that was where she started. 

Usually, when she was around humans, she’d do everything in slow motion, or at least that was how it felt to her. Now, though, being alone, she barely thought about moving and then was where she wanted to be. 

Indeed, it was another bathroom. The black tile and silver fixtures gleamed spotlessly. After poking around and being unable to find any towels, Forsythia called awkwardly, “Hisky? Can you come here for a moment please?” 

Hisky appeared, straightening her tea towel dress, “Yes, Miss Thia?” She asked, ears perking up when she looked between Forsythia and the shower. “I was wondering where the towels are?” She asked, feeling sheepish for not already knowing even though Hisky hadn’t told her where they were. 

The elf blinked, “Towels is in the linen cabinet, Miss Thia. Hisky will bring you some.” 

With that, the elf disappeared then reappeared with a stack of towels bigger than she was. She set them up on the counter, which she had to stand on her toes to do, gave another bow, and was gone again. 

Feeling quite affectionate towards the little elf, Forsythia shut the door and stripped down to nothing but her skin. It was oddly freeing to be naked and not worried if anybody would see her. When she stayed at the pub, there was always the chance for somebody to walk into the shared bathroom space seeing as there was no lock on the door there. At Draco’s rowhouse, though, she guessed the last thing that would ever happen would be getting walked in on. He was too proper for that sort of thing. 

She slid the glass door open and flipped on the water, very pleased when billowing clouds of lavender scented steam filled the room around her. It was a very human feeling. 

The hot water from the shower made Forsythia shiver violently as she stepped into it. It was another very human feeling, scrubbing herself down with body wash that reminded her of Draco. After her skin prickled sensitively from all the scrubbing, Forsythia leaned sideways against the tile and simply let herself feel warm. 

“ _ The Dark Lord wants us to be as closely bonded to our masters as possible. That way we’re unable to break the bond, or use it against anybody.”  _ The memory of Jonathan’s defeated, mocking tone made her shiver again. What if he was right; what if she truly wouldn’t be able to use their bond? If that was the case, there would be no chance for escape. She’d be stuck with Draco until they likely killed her. That was assuming that she’d do something worth being killed over.

Dread filled her, turning her stomach sour and her body cold despite the steaming water around her. There had to be another way. Maybe she’d be able to use the bond against him if she was really clever about it. That had to be it, she thought to herself. It crushed her, still, to think she wouldn’t be able to fully disappear from him. 

Then again, she had firsthand experience with what happened to humans who were left with an intact bond but no Vampire to watch over them. 

She’d seen it just the one time. That night, in the Leaky Cauldron, when she and some girls from school met up over the holiday break. There was a man hunched over a table just to the left of theirs, his face in his hands and a firewhisky sitting untouched in front of him. She’d seen him, seen the agitation in his posture as he twitched and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 

Being apart from his bonded Vampire had driven him mad, she suspected. What else would cause a normal wizard to slice themselves open in the middle of a full pub. His screaming was what haunted her; his screaming of the Vampire’s name and the begging for the pain to stop. 

Forsythia thought she might be sick at the memory and pushed it away as much as she could. That was over, now. What had been done was done. Maybe she and Draco could meet once a month, for as little time as possible, to keep him from going mad. She snorted at the idea and quickly dismissed it. 

If she truly couldn’t break their bond then really the only option left would be to use it against him. She’d have to try harder to gain his full trust. After a couple deep breaths of steam, Forsythia shifted her energy back to being determined. It was all very confusing, and with the stress of it all she was having a difficult time keeping her feelings straight. 

It was also hard wavering between so many plans. She needed to decide exactly what she was going to do and how, it just felt like her mind was working at half speed. It had to be because of whatever she’d breathed in, the powdered silver or whatever it was. Her entire being felt strangely blurry, like she was drugged, perhaps. 

Her lungs still ached from whatever it was, and she suspected the pain might last for a while, despite drinking from him directly. When she focused on it she could feel each individual laceration that cut into her all the way from the back of her throat down into each lung. There were hundreds of them, possibly thousands. It was infinitesimally less painful than it had been the night before, but she could tell not much healing had taken place during the night. 

A slow recovery would still be a recovery, though she worried Draco would call her in to interrogate before she was fully healed. If she wasn’t able to be in complete control because of the pain then she could end up seriously injuring somebody who didn’t deserve it. Forsythia sighed, then hissed as the wounds oozed all through her. Curse whoever had come up with such a vile hex. 

At the very least she wasn’t in the cage anymore. 

Forsythia stepped from the shower and decided to stop breathing altogether. Perhaps if the tissues stayed immboile they would heal more quickly. Not breathing didn’t add to the pain in any way, so she figured that was a good place to start.

As her eyes landed on the pile of towels still on the vanity, she found that Hisky had brought her a fluffy robe while she was showering, and a fondness for the elf was present yet again. She pulled it on once her hair was wrapped in a towel and went back to her room, her bundle of clothes tucked under her arm. The bottle she’d left in the hall had disappeared, and she suspected Hisky had cleared it away.  _ Good, _ she thought to herself,  _ probably best not to be walking around the place in nothing but a robe.  _

Even if Draco was proper, he was still a man, and though she wasn’t scared of him in  _ that _ way, she knew it was something any man was capable of doing at the drop of the hat if the mood struck. It had happened to one of the girls from her dorm, even. The memory of the story was murky, and Forsythia grimaced. It left her feeling cold and sick to her stomach, and she flew to her bedroom, barely taking two steps before she was pressed back against the inside of the door. 

For good measure, she slid the lock into place. 

Her bedroom was warm when she relaxed enough to take it in again, and realized the elf must have lit a fire in the empty grate for her. The flames shifted between blue and green and it was rather pretty. Curiously, she opened the wardrobe and was surprised to see that there were several more sets of black tops and trousers, a heavy winter cloak, and, at the back, her ripped jeans and t-shirt she’d been wearing when she’d been captured. They had been laundered and the worst of the tears mended. Another pair of boots sat at the bottom, polished black dragonhide; she could see the silencing charms stitched into the leather. With a snort devoid of humor, she guessed they would match her mask perfectly.

Surprisingly, there were also fresh undergarments as well. Nothing fancy, just plain, white cotton things that would do the job. Very quickly she became flustered over wondering if Draco had chosen such things for her, then shook herself and held her head high. Even if he had, it meant nothing. They were clothes, just like anything else. The bras, though, still made her blush. They were the correct size though she’d never shared that information with anybody in her life. It was probably some kind of magic, she thought to herself. Anything to self soothe. 

Once dressed, Forsythia went and sat by the fire while she ran her fingers through her hair and braided it away from her face. Having nothing to tie it with, she let it rest loosely on her shoulder and let the heat dry it. 

As the minutes ticked past, Forsythia stayed where she was, not feeling the need to lay down even after everything she’d gone through. It was more comfortable to be in the glow of the flames.

-*-

Hisky returned only to bring her potions, and she didn’t see Draco for another three days, during which she spent in front of the bookshelf either reading or just staring into the fireplace. On the fourth day, Hisky watched her drink the potion, handed her the mask, took her hand once it was on, and apparated her to Draco’s side in an interrogation room after telling her somewhat gravely that it was time to go to work. 

Forsythia had gone along, not willing to do anything to hurt Hisky or make her life more difficult than it surely already was. They were similar in a lot of ways, namely their servitude to Draco, and Forsythia didn’t want to make that any harder for either of them.

So, she took the elf’s hand and clung to her as they apparated. 

They appeared inside the interrogation room, Draco on one side and another Death Eater chained to their seat on the other. She guessed it was another double agent. When she tried to look to Draco for some instruction once Hisky was gone, he refused to look away from the man seated in front of them. He looked exhausted with dark shadows under his slightly red eyes. 

“Start with three, Black, in the arm-.” 

“No! No, don’t have it bite me! I’ll-I’ll tell you whatever you want-.” 

“Forsythia, bite him now.” 

He wasn’t commanding her, and she knew she’d be able to disobey him if she wanted, but she really didn’t want to be cursed in such a small space, and maybe this was him testing if she’d do it without being forced, so she did as he said. She became the attack dog he always wanted. 

Her fangs barely pricked the man’s exposed skin before he was screaming out a name she’d never heard before. She glanced at Draco as she drew back, and finally he looked at her, too. 

“I said three, Black. You’ve got two left.” 

Her stomach tightened, and she looked at him in disbelief until he snarled out the command. She couldn’t disobey. 

The man’s heart beat at a dizzying pace, and Forsythia sank her teeth into his shoulder twice, one bite right next to the other, after ripping his cloak back to gain access to him. As soon as she was pulling away from the third bite, he went gray and lost consciousness. 

Draco told her to back off, his eyes locked on her. 

Despite his shadowed and reddened skin giving away his exhaustion, Draco’s eyes were as bright as usual, triumphant, even. She made sure he watched as she gathered the small amount of the other Death Eater’s blood that had made it past her lips and spit it thickly down onto the floor. 

“Very ladylike.” he sneered. Forsythia rolled her eyes and leaned sideways against the wall while he called for Hisky to come get her. 

Four more times this happened, though each time her mere presence forced the tongues of more Death Eaters who’d acted as spies for the Order. Apparently word had gotten out that, for whatever reason, her venom was particularly potent, and now none of the people they interrogated were willing to experience it themselves. 

Part of her wondered if it had been talked up or exaggerated by somebody in order to instill some good old fashioned fear in them, but whatever it was certainly made her life easier. It was a relief not to bite any of them, especially with how much dark magic she knew was burned into their blood. He didn’t command her to again, either. 

Draco wouldn’t look at her, barely spoke to her unless he was ordering her to remove the mask or replace it, seeing as that was all it took to get the people they interrogated to reveal everything he wanted to know. 

Any warm feelings towards him that had started to grow fizzled out, and she began dreading being summoned to his side. Then again, she reasoned one evening after interrogating a particularly weepy Death Eater who’d been giving information to Harry Potter himself, the work was easy when she didn’t have to do anything but stand in the corner and glare at everyone. 

Plus, Draco still hadn’t commanded her to do anything more than stand at his side. Perhaps she could get used to this new work. 


	8. Chapter 8

“ _ Take it off _ .” 

Draco’s voice echoed not only in the interrogation room, but also in her mind, which was horribly unsettling. The command was strong, despite not having been used in so long, and she didn’t dare try to ignore it lest she have the hell cursed out of her. She reached up and removed it, eyes locking on a very injured Hannah Abbott, another student whom she’d seen around school. They’d been in the same year. 

A full month had passed and she’d had to start biting people again once they moved on from all of the internal personnel who needed to be tortured. Once that happened, she’d seen everyone from previous classmates to Ministry employees. In the last month, she’d become numb to the whole process. She also hadn’t seen a single other Vampire as Draco was only having her brought to and from the interrogation rooms directly. 

She, Hannah, looked horrible as Forsythia handed her mask off to Draco. They were careful not to touch. Hannah’s eyes were puffy and red and her skin so, so pale. Her hair was matted in a loose ponytail and her clothes were as ripped as Forsythia’s had been when she arrived at Oak Grove. Hannah was still in her school uniform, the Hogwarts emblem splattered with dried blood. It was, in fact, the only spot that hadn’t been thoroughly cleansed. Forsythia could see that her nose was broken from the bruising, but like all of the others they’d interrogated so far, no blood was visible. 

“Start with one, we’ll see where that gets us.”

Dread filled her, but she moved anyway. It felt like she was an extension of Draco, now, and it made her sick. As if watching herself from across the room, she dipped her head down and quickly sank her teeth into Hannah’s shoulder. This was an easy spot for her to reach on almost everybody, and she’d overheard another Death Eater snicker to Draco that it was her ‘signature’ now. 

Hannah screamed, her body jerking sideways into Forsythia’s teeth so hard it ripped her shoulder clear open from her trapezius up to the middle point of her neck. Blood was gushing out of her, and her continued screams did nothing but force more out with every breath. She was screaming for her mother. 

Frozen, Forsythia could only stand over her, bound by Draco’s command to only bite her once. The smell of Hannah’s blood, lilac and cardamom, made her sway as the frenzy tried to take over. 

His command held strong. All she could do was stare as the blood flowed so freely. “You’ve done enough,  _ back up _ .” The new command made it easy to trip backwards into the wall again, her hand covering her face to try to block out the smell. Hannah’s screaming quieted into sobs, into nothing, and her ashen face went slack as she fainted. 

Forsythia wanted to scream and sob, too. Her insides felt like they were boiling, every inch scrunching up and dying as if touched by lava. The pain of it was so intense she didn’t feel when her knees buckled and slammed into the hard floor. If she was hurt, she would heal, but even being what she was wouldn’t mend this kind of emotional trauma. As the room flashed in front of her, red seeping into her vision as the frenzy fought his command, Forsythia could feel part of herself cracking. 

As she cracked, it was the worst pain imaginable. Worse than the cruciatus. Worse than the agony of being alone. Worse than being told by Professor Dumbledore that her parents had died suspiciously while traveling her second year. The most distressing part of watching Hannah bleed to death was how it pulled up everything she’d been bottling down. It felt like her mind was roaring under the weight of it all. 

Through the screaming in her head, she could hear Hannah’s heart weaken and slow, and the noise in her mind surged. 

Everything around her moved in a blur; Draco cast a spell over Hannah to stop the bleeding and then poured a potion messily over her neck. It took another two spells before the bleeding actually stopped. The now clean wound started to smoke as the skin slowly stitched itself back together, and two more Death Eaters entered, one stepping hard on Forsythia’s hand in his haste to start cleaning the mess. It made sense - with Vampires all over the place this amount of blood would send them all into a fit if it wasn’t cleaned quickly. 

She stared at Hannah’s muggle shoes, counted the cracks in the rubber soles. How long had she been on the run when she was caught? Judging by her uniform, Forsythia guessed she’d left from school instead of home. Then again, Hannah was from their year and wouldn’t have been back at Hogwarts for years now. It dawned on her, then, that Hannah had to have been running for a very long time. The room blurred. 

Her shoes were stained with blood from where it had dripped off the chair. It was now the second part of her outfit that was reddened. The Death Eaters didn’t bother to clean her shoes.

A stretcher was summoned, and the two extra Death Eaters levitated her onto it and then out of the room. 

“That was sloppy.”

Draco’s voice made her jerk violently backwards. Her back crashed into the wall where she cowered from him as he stood over her; she couldn’t meet his eyes. 

“Get up. We’re done.” 

When she couldn’t move, he sighed sharply and bent to grab her. Where their skin met, electricity shot down into her bones. Draco jolted as she did, his eyes widening for just a moment before he glared at her again. Under his anger she could see something else. He was afraid. Despite this, he didn’t let go of her. 

Her knees cracked back into place as she staggered to stand with his help, though she could barely hold herself upright as they mended. It was rather painful having both patellas force themselves back into their appropriate joints, and it added to the mounting pressure in her head. 

Draco’s lips turned up in disgust at the sound, “When I told you to back off I didn’t mean go and break your damn legs.” 

She couldn’t answer on account of her hand cracking, now, too. The tiniest gasp slipped past her lips as a bone in her index finger cemented itself back together, and Draco visibly paled. 

“Who stepped on you? Which one was it?” he snarled, grabbing onto her wrist when she didn’t answer. The pain was fading, but then a fresh wave of Hannah screaming for her mother burst forth and Forsythia wanted to break more bones just to overshadow it. 

“ _ Tell me who stepped on your hand! _ ” 

She didn’t get a chance to ready herself for the command before he gave it.

“Avery!” 

Her voice was a sharp cry in the otherwise silent room. He dragged her hand up to look at it. The bones had settled and, as she had no working circulatory system, the only mark left was the imprint of Avery’s boot in her skin. Draco’s expression darkened as he pressed the mask back onto her face. 

“Hisky!”

The elf popped into view only a second later, already bowing low before she reached out for Forsythia’s hand. This was their routine; Hisky would appear and take her immediately back to the house where she’d be secluded away in her room until Draco needed her again.

Cold, dark hatred flooded through her. It originated where Draco still hadn’t released her wrist and coiled, racing up into the rest of her arm and then through her chest. She ripped herself from him and took Hisky’s outstretched and waiting hand, eyes boring into his, daring him to ask more of her. 

“Take her back to the rowhouse. Make sure she has a potion and then come back to me. We’re going to visit Severus.” 

Apparating so soon after being injured was a trip; the crushing force of it managed to slip the same index finger bone out of place. It stuck out at a funny angle until Forsythia landed in the back garden. She didn’t hold in her cry when it snapped back into place with an unsettling crack. The intense hatred shivered then relinquished itself now that she was away from him. 

“Miss, we need to be going inside, please,” Hisky whispered, her big eyes somehow wider as she took Forsythia’s other hand and quickly tugged her into the house. 

Just as Draco told her, Hisky brought her a potion and waited until it was gone before disappearing again. Forsythia stayed where she’d collapsed on the chair by the bookshelf, her entire body nearly vibrating with fear. That had been the worst interrogation yet. For a moment, Forsythia was rather glad that she didn’t sleep - without sleeping she wouldn’t have nightmares for Hannah to haunt. 

-*-

She had to get out. Two days passed without word from Draco. In a fit of desperation, Forsythia tried to leave her room. The moment her hand touched the handle, an invisible force knocked her backwards while her hand started to turn a dark, angry red where it had touched the metal. She screamed, clinging to her wrist and backing up into the side of her bed as hot tears tracked down her cheeks. It felt like her hand was being burned from the inside out, and only when Hisky popped into view and managed to hold her still enough to dribble Essence of Dittany onto her palm did it ebb. 

“Master Draco is not wanting you to be leaving your room, Miss Thia.” 

“That would have been nice to know before I burnt the hell out of my hand!” She didn’t mean to shout at the elf and felt her entire heart drop when she looked frightened and disappeared with a pop. 

She stayed on the floor, her hand still tingling every few minutes and light pink now instead of red. 

-*-

The days blended together, and she lost track of time, unwilling to move and feeling very much like she should be back in the cell at Oak Grove. At least there she wouldn’t hurt the one person who was kind to her. 

She could grump at the men around her, sure, but that wouldn’t hurt them. Axium’s brutishly handsome face drifted through her mind, but she swiped him away as quickly as he’d been summoned. Now wasn’t the time to panic. Except it seemed her body was going to betray her on that front.

Hyperventilating sent sharp, spasming pains through her chest. The wounds from Nottingham manor never seemed to fully heal, and the agony of it only made her panic more. It didn’t last long this time, she didn’t have the energy for it to go on more than five minutes before she was flat on her back gazing up at the ceiling, calm again. Empty. 

-*-

Hisky did not return to her. Her mind started to get hazy without having any potions. Everything had a halo around it and even if she wanted to stand she guessed she wouldn’t be able to. The room was too bright, even with her eyes closed the light burned her. Her mask was still on, and in order to stay conscious just in case Draco came for her, or in case he sent Hisky in to bring her to him, she’d open her mouth as if to bite the mask. 

It was all a really clever excuse, though. She felt like she deserved the pain after being so horrible to Hisky that the elf wouldn’t enter her room any longer. That, along with the fact that she realized very quickly she  _ wasn’t  _ numb to the interrogations and had instead just been bottling up all of her feelings about it. Once those feelings came bubbling up to the surface the moment she started to starve, Forsythia knew for sure she deserved the shock. She deserved to be punished. 

The first few jolted her enough to get her up off the floor. She made it to the chair by the books, curled up, and then had to settle when her body started buzzing again with the withdrawal.

Instead of halos, everything looked like it had a dark shadow of itself floating just above the original; the bed, the door, the windows, even her own body when she looked down at it. She went to bite again and the shock was intense enough to bring her vision back to normal once it wasn’t clouded by flashing lights. So, it continued. 

Everytime the thirst started to consume her, started to turn her into a wild, dark creature instead of a person, she shocked herself. Quickly, she realized the mask would work with her own tolerance for pain, and by the third day of her self prescribed shock treatments, it had grown to such a high level she could smell her skin burning and then feel it mending under the dragonhide. 

In addition to being more powerful, the mask had also grown accustomed to her mouth being open and her fangs fully out. It wouldn’t shock her until she started thinking about biting instead of physically moving to do so. Ingenious magic, she thought to herself numbly. Whoever designed it probably didn’t ever think that a vampire could open their mouth with their fangs out and not think about biting at the same time. 

-*-

There was a soft pop, and she snapped her head around at the sound. If she were human, perhaps the movement would have broken her neck. 

“You look horrible.” 

Draco’s scent crept across the room to her in menacing tendrils. She held her breath, letting her head rest back down against the back of the chair. He was no immediate threat to her, so she relaxed again. Her mind wandered, and she thought of biting, then jerked back up when the shock came. 

“When was the last time you had a potion?”

**Shock.** **  
  
**

“Five days ago.” Merlin, she sounded horrid. 

“Why didn’t you call for Hisky?”

**Shock.**

“I don’t know.” 

He crossed the room, though he did hesitate as he got closer. Guessing that he was disgusted with the state of her, Forsythia curled around herself tighter and even reached up to rest her hand over the mask so he couldn’t take it from her.  **Shock.**

“Are you..are you shocking yourself on purpose or do you want to kill me that badly?”

**Shock.**

“Take it off.” 

She clung to it tighter, knowing if he took it she would fall apart.  **Shock** . Hannah Abbott’s face swam before her eyes.

“Forsythia, take it off, now!”

**Shock** . Too-blue eyes gazed at her from every corner of the room, accusing her of abandoning them. 

“ _ Stupefy! _ ” 

-*-

When the stunning spell wore off, Forsythia threw herself up onto her feet and crashed into Draco’s chest. He spun her back around and forced her face down onto the bed. “ _ Stop fighting me _ .” 

Much to her intense dismay, the command held and she became limp under his hands. 

“This is  _ absurd _ . I leave you alone for five days and you refuse to eat and start hurting yourself for fun! Do you understand how that looks?”

Fighting him would have involved arguing back, so his command kept her from speaking again. “I have done everything in my power to make your existence here manageable, and this is how you repay me?” he snarled, shoving her hard again before letting go of her. She stayed where she was, thought to start biting but no shock came. Her eyes flew open and she jerked to touch her face. No mask. 

Her human muscle memory kicked into gear and she started gasping in fresh stabs of his scent. Pain scorched through her chest but she didn’t care. Without the mask she’d lose control, become a monster. Hannah Abott’s face and the memory of her blood made her fangs cut into her lower lip with a sharp pinch.

“You’re  _ not _ going to hurt yourself anymore.” 

“Y-You can’t, you don’t understand what’ll happen if I don’t have it!” she cried back, turning over so she could see him again. Even if she usually had more pride, she wasn’t beyond begging for it back. If only to keep Hisky safe if the elf could ever forgive her for being such a monster. 

Draco was staring down at her in an outrage, eyes bright silver and jaw set. He looked her over, and she could tell he was trying to be subtle. Whatever he thought of her, it was not good. His jaw flexed and his hands balled into tight fists at his side. 

“Yes, I do understand. You’ll stay here and you’ll drink your potions and you will  _ behave _ .” 

Her mind went silent. He was so close to her, only three feet away. There was an insistent pull to be near him, to reach out and take his wrist and pull it to her lips. She would have him there all by himself and if he killed her then so be it. At least she would be free. 

The only light was coming from the tip of his wand he clutched in his hand. In its shimmering light, he seemed to glow. Even the scars on his face and hands glittered dangerously. From inside his cloak, Draco pulled out a potion bottle and tossed it down onto her stomach. “ _ Drink it. Now. _ ” 

It was like the first time all over again. Her entire body felt like it was warming from the inside out as she finished the bottle. The hyperventilating slowed and stopped, and her hands stopped shaking so badly. He vanished the bottle once it was empty and something in his face shifted. He looked remorseful, maybe. But she blinked and the expression was gone. 

“If you ever do anything like that again, I’ll have you thrown into a cell with a Giant and see who comes out alive.” 

With that, he turned with a dramatic sweep of his cloak and was gone again. Forsythia stayed in bed, and her potion appeared out of thin air on the bedside table at noon the next day. She missed Hisky. 

-*-

Only two more days passed before he returned. 

“If you abuse this.” 

He didn’t have to finish his threat as he lifted the muzzle up to her face. It was a comfort, having it back, and she debated if she’d be able to get away with one little zap before he disapparated them. He took her arm and then they were gone. 

Lee Jordan was waiting for them, his hands folded on the table and his usual laughing eyes cold and empty. The light in the interrogation room made Forsythia grimace as she tried to focus enough to keep her depth perception working. Draco glanced at her and said nothing as he dimmed the light with a wave of his wand. 

“I told you, I don’t know where Harry is. I haven’t even seen Fred or George in months.” 

Lee’s voice was as empty as his eyes. Forsythia guessed he was coming out of being under the imperius curse by the way his heart kept irregularly beating. That was a common state to find people in, and she hoped he wouldn’t vomit from the vertigo of it. 

“Perhaps not. Maybe your memory will come back with a little encouragement.” Draco nodded at her. “Give him one to start with,  _ no venom _ .” 

It was strange, usually he wasn’t specific about that sort of thing, but a command was a command. She leaned over Lee’s shoulder and barely pierced his skin enough to let the blood well up. Maybe one sip wouldn’t hurt…

“ _ Back off _ .”

Her feet carried her back, though Lee’s woody scented blood was already on her lips. He was lovely, and had it not been for Draco’s command she would have gone back immediately. With him being restrained it would be easy, maybe too easy. She let herself daydream about draining the poor man while he and Draco had a low conversation. 

She was glad this wasn’t like Hannah’s. Even though Lee was clearly out of it, at least he wasn’t screaming. It was shocking, though, when he turned his head to look at her, “I..I know you. Wait…” 

Forsythia slid her mask back onto her face and lowered her eyes. He was wrong, even if Lee had known about her because of a tryst with one of the Weasley twins, he didn’t know her now. She was afraid she didn’t even know herself now. 

Her throat was burning. Every second that ticked by another layer of pain was added. “D-Draco-,” she whispered, reaching up to touch her neck, which was as cold as it normally was. Why wasn’t it burning? Surely if the inside was scorched the outside would be, too? Shock. 

The thought had come too quickly for her to stop it. She’d pictured reaching out and drawing Draco into her, piercing his neck and then ripping a chunk out. It seemed that, despite being off of her face for two days, the mask hadn’t adjusted its power to match her pain tolerance now that it had lowered. The scream that tore itself from her lips could have shattered glass. 

All around her there was a crushing darkness, then she was down in a cell once more. A healer was bustling around in front of her, their green robes swishing about as they moved at top speed. It was a little disturbing, seeing as she couldn’t move and had no idea that there were any healers in the first place. Through the haze, she kept catching fragments of their conversation with somebody outside the cell.

“-just fix her.”

“I’m trying, she’s not exactly helping me very much.”

“She’s chained down, what more help do you need?”

Something bitter and rancid was pushed into her mouth and Forsythia nearly threw it back up but then her mask was put back over her face and she swallowed, gagging on the thick potion. Indeed, when she tried to wrench the wretched thing off she couldn’t lift her hand more than an inch off the stone slab she was bound to. 

Panic started to rise in her throat, along with whatever potion had been given to her. There was nowhere for it to go, though, so she swallowed again. If she couldn’t move then she couldn’t defend herself, especially not with the mask on. What she would give to have her wand back for just a minute. 

“When was the last time she was given blood directly? She’s in very poor condition.” 

“Several days. She’s had the replenishing potions daily, though.”

“No, that won’t do at all. Now that the bond and command charm are settling she’ll need more from you directly.”

“ _ Fine _ . There was one other thing, though. I found her shocking herself with the muzzle.”

The healer stilled, “What?”

“As a self harm method. That’s why the intensity of the shock was so high. She got used to it.”

“I’ve never heard of one doing that. Did she tell you why?”

“No.” 

Forsythia’s head felt like it was being split open as the healer tapped the tip of their wand against her temple. Then, her thoughts were running in reverse all the way back until she was leaning over Hannah’s body as it drained itself right in front of her face. She longed to scream again but didn’t have the energy to. Something had to give, the pain in her head surged past even the cruciatus. 

“Ah. It was a coping mechanism to deal with trauma. I didn’t know they could process these sorts of things.”

“They don’t, usually. None of the others have shown signs of this.” 

“Perhaps you should examine your bond more closely, then. It seems she’s very attached to you, you should offer her some comfort.”

_ Attached to him?  _ Forsythia finally found her voice and screamed like she’d never screamed in her life. It tore at her throat, crackled through her chest, and echoed painfully off the walls of the medic cell. 

Draco was silent, and finally the pain stopped as the healer withdrew their wand. She slumped back against the stone, her chest spasming as she tried to keep herself from crying. Try as she might, she couldn’t stop from letting out a few broken, relieved sobs. The very last thing in the entire world she wanted was to be comforted by Draco. 

The metal lattice ground itself away and then her body was freed. There wasn’t any time to think before Draco was yanking her up into his arms and stepping out of the cell. “ _ Be still _ ,” he snapped at her, and then they were apparating again. 

The brief look she got of his face was confusing; he looked like he was about to be sick. 


	9. Chapter 9

Forsythia was allowed to wander the rowhouse again, though Hisky accompanied her everywhere under Draco’s orders to watch her in case she started using the mask again. At first, she’d been nervous to be around the elf in case she lost control, but in a strange show of care for her, Draco said she’d be just fine and she wouldn’t be in such close contact with Hisky if he didn’t trust her.

Two weeks passed without an interrogation, but did include a new regiment of two potions a day. Hisky didn’t seem afraid of her anymore, especially not once she’d apologized for being so rude the last time she’d seen her. The little elf had patted her hand and promised it was nothing she needed to be sorry about. Their interactions went back to being rather pleasant, even more so as they grew closer and Hisky’s trust in her was restored. 

They’d secluded themselves away in the drawing room on a Wednesday afternoon, Forsythia staring at the floor and Hisky going through old cookbooks. The elf looked up from where she’d been pouring over a very battered looking copy of “ _ Mystical Mince Pies''  _ and said softly, “Miss Thia, Master Draco is wanting me to bring you to him.” 

Forsythia shivered and hesitated, her body already starting to shake at the thought of having to endure another interrogation. Hisky put the book down and reached out for her hand, giving her a sympathetic, grim smile. The elf took her to Draco, apparating her right into the interrogation room as per usual. Then, with another crack, vanished. 

“One bite. Let’s see if you can contain yourself and manage that.” 

His biting tone made her flinch away from him as she sulked around the edge of the room and then hovered behind the man chained to the chair.

He was tall, even sitting down. She tried her best not to think of him, not to comprehend the color of his robes (navy blue) or the heavy scent (peppermint and marjoram) that clung to him. She bit, then stood back as the man hissed in pain. 

“Good. Go for another.” 

Forsythia bit again; neatly, just next to the first. His blood beaded up, and even though she stepped back again, her eyes stayed pinned to it. His hiss turned into a gasp and then a groan as the venom surely stung. 

“Better. A third.”

_ Don’t think, just do _ , she thought to herself. Now wasn’t the time to have a full blown panic attack. As she bent forward to bite next to the second, there was a shriek of metal being bent and then arms were locked around her neck in an iron grip. 

There was a flash and then she was on her knees in front of the man, a wand pressed hard into her neck, his heavy hand weighing on her shoulder. There was a whisper behind her and then a sharp pain in her skin where his wand was. “Do anything stupid and the Vampire dies.” 

She watched as Draco, wand now drawn, lowered it by an inch, “Shacklebolt, think about what you’re doing.” his voice was calm, but she watched as he gulped. He looked worried, almost wild with worry as the man behind her dug his wand in hard enough to make her wince.  _ Kill me _ , she thought desperately.  _ Kill me and let it destroy him.  _

Draco’s eyes flashed as if he’d heard her, and part of her sincerely hoped he had. “Kingsley, she has nothing to do with this. She’s acting under my orders. Let her go and I’ll-”

“What exactly will you do, Malfoy? Haven’t you done enough?”

The man’s wand pulled back, but Draco was faster. He shot a stunning spell at him, then levitated him backwards so he wouldn’t crush her as he fell forward. “Get over here, now.” 

Forsythia pushed herself forward, stumbling as she made it to his side. He let the man fall without a backwards glance. “You’re bleeding.” 

She reached up and touched where the wand had been stabbing into her. When she pulled her fingers back she found them to be covered in a black sticky substance. It was like she was leaking the dark magic that kept her alive. 

“He..said something under his breath,” she said, swaying as her vision went spotty. 

Her body slumped sideways, though she didn’t hit the floor. Something warm was around her, and she was surprised when they didn’t apparate. Shimmering whispers filled her ears but she couldn’t focus on what they were saying over the roaring in her head. The bond was trying to take control, to have her turn her head and feed right there on the interrogation floor. She was too weak, too shocked, whimpering pathetically as she fought it off. 

“Hush, Thia.” He whispered. The other Vampires fell silent. 

There was a loud grinding of a cell opening, and then the same healer was fussing all around her. Had Draco really carried her down to him?

“What’s she done to herself  _ now? _ ” he demanded, waving his wand over her as the thick, cold chains wrapped around her. 

“Kingsley Shacklebolt used a cutting curse on her. I would mend it myself but I wasn’t sure if it would work.” 

The healer snorted, casting several charms over her and then leaning in close to look into her face, “She looks much better. You’ve been giving her the two potions a day, correct?”

“Yes, now can you stop her bleeding before I lose my patience?” 

There was something in his voice, a nervous edge that made her jerk up to look at him. Even despite the rush of stabbing pain that went through her neck, seeing his expression so frantic was worth it. She revelled in his pain. 

“There’s no need for me to do anything, it’s stopped on its own. I’ll close it up.” There was an intense tugging sensation in her neck, and then searing heat that made her strain against the chains. Why wouldn’t she just die already?

“Now,” said the healer, leaning back over her again, “Has Mr. Malfoy been kinder to you?” he asked, speaking slowly and soft like she was an injured animal. With a grim smile to herself she guessed she sort of was. 

_ Don’t speak. _ Draco’s command, though unspoken, held fast when she tried to open her mouth. After getting over the initial shock of hearing his voice in her own mind, and chalking it all up to their still forming bond, she simply nodded at the healer. He waved his hand and summoned another potion. “This will help you feel all better, alright?” he said, offering it to her. 

Forsythia lifted her head to allow him to pour the potion into her mouth. It tasted mainly of lavender and she felt her entire body relax in a way it hadn’t in months. The chains moved away, and she sat up, blinking hard to keep from passing out. 

“She’ll need a potion as soon as you take her back to her..well, wherever it is that The Dark Lord is having her kept. I am formally notating that she needs some time off, given the traumatic experiences she seems to hold onto. Without mental rest, she may be rendered ineffective.” 

Forsythia stopped listening as the man rambled on. Draco was watching her, torn it seemed between looking relieved and angry. What was the worst he could do? Leave her by herself again? 

If he did that, she’d just zap herself every five minutes until he had to come back. Her body went cold. Was she wanting him to be near her again? After everything? 

She gulped, frozenly staring at him in fear. If she was finding ways to get him close to her despite how much she absolutely loathed him, that only meant one thing; the bond was truly starting to complete itself.

Draco pointed down at the floor in front of him and snapped at her to come back to him. When her legs wobbled, he scoffed and closed to the distance between them in one long stride before gripping her arm like a vice and apparating them. 

As soon as they were back at the rowhouse, Draco turned on her in the back garden, his face a mask of calm. “Are you okay to walk?” 

His voice was nervous, like he was trying to say more than he was. 

“I’m okay.” 

“Good. I’ll see you in, then.”

Draco walked her all the way up to her room, watched her drink the potion, then paused at the door. She watched him chew the inside of his cheek before he said softly, “That was a stupid mistake. You should never, never be trapped like that again. Next time I may not be fast enough.” 

She blinked at him from where she was perched on the chair by the bookshelf, “You’re blaming me?” 

His jaw tightened, “You need to be more careful.”

“Why do you care?”

Draco didn’t answer, and she watched him compose himself before he turned the handle and left the room. She felt a strong urge to go after him, but guessed if he heard her chasing him down he’d crucio first and ask questions later. 

The silence was deafening without him there. 

-*-

It was starting to drive her mad by the next time he appeared, two potions in hand. “Hisky already gave me my second potion for today,” she said, barely looking up from the copy of  _ “Hogwarts, A History” _ she had balanced on her lap. 

“Only one of these is a blood replenishing potion. I need-... _ we _ need you back at your regular operating levels, so I brought you something to help with the, er, post-traumatic stress issues.” 

She looked up at him, scowling, “I’ve been fine.”

It was the truth. She hadn’t thought of using the mask a single time since she’d been getting a steady supply of potions. As long as she stayed occupied the crushing loneliness was easy enough to ignore. 

He scowled right back, “Drink these, or I’ll order you. I have other things I need to take care of tonight.” 

She was surprised that his cheeks were tinged pink. So, she drank. 

The blood replenishing potion was so undiluted that she had to wait a few seconds for her head to stop spinning before she took the calming draught. Once both were empty, Draco looked at her for a moment longer before he vanished them and then disapparated with a loud crack that made her jump. 

Whatever had been in the calming draught helped her focus back on her goal. If she was going to escape, she needed to get him to trust her again. That would be difficult, seeing as he spent maybe ten minutes with her a week, but she had to try. 

The only question was how. Over the next two days, she schemed alone in her room, not even leaving to go to the drawing room with Hisky when the elf offered to take her downstairs. 

It came to her, though, roughly twenty-seven hours into her self prescribed isolation: she’d have to give him a reason to come see her, and she knew exactly how to do just that. 

Instead of going down into the house with Hisky while he was away, she stayed tucked up in bed with her mask on. When Hisky brought her the potions, she’d drink them, wait five minutes after the elf left her and then make herself sick. He responded to her when she was weak more positively than when she wasn’t. 

So, the plan was to starve herself just a little bit and play it off as some kind of sickness with the bond. If she could convince him that she needed him to stay close to her for a little time each day in order to keep her from becoming ill from this bond sickness, then she could push it to complete more quickly. It was foolproof, provided he was as uneducated about blood bonds as she was. 

-*-

When the shaking started in her hands on the third day, Hisky immediately brought Draco to her. She was thrilled.

“What’s wrong with her?”

“Hisky does not know, sir, the Miss has been having her potions every day, twice a day like you says for her to be, sir.” 

Forsythia whimpered, hoping she wasn’t playing it up too much. Draco’s voice was pinched with worry as he peered at where she was scrunched in a ball on her bed. 

“I’ll take care of it, Hisky, you can go back to Severus.” 

She heard the elf leave, then counted three of Draco’s calm breaths before he spoke, sounding like he was smirking. 

“You know, I’m very busy. I can’t just come back home because you’ve got a runny nose.” 

She winced, cracking her eyes open and then letting them widen as she took him in, though she didn’t have to play that up at all; it was too easy to sink into her warm attraction to him. He was in the same black clothing he always wore, his cloak carrying in cold air like he’d been outside. She watched, transfixed, as a piece of his hair fell down over his forehead. 

His eyebrows raised as she continued to stare, “What are you doing?” he asked. 

Her breath caught, his scent was a little intense since she’d not fully been absorbing his blood, “It’s called bond sickness,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. 

Draco paled, “We haven’t..you haven't been around me at all. I was under the impression a true bond wouldn’t form unless..,” he trailed off, looking frustrated. 

“It’s not formed yet, that’s why it’s happening. Even though we haven’t been around each other-,” she paused to grimace again, “-it’ll just get worse unless you stay here.” 

It was good to know that he seemed to want to fight the bond, to drag out the completion process. She’d have to be covert in order to get the upper hand. 

He was quiet for a few minutes before he sighed heavily and flicked his wands so that one of the chairs from in front of the book case zoomed over and rested neatly at the side of her bed.

“So I’m just supposed to sit here, then?” he prompted, tone cold and biting once more. 

“I-It helps if we…” she trailed off, pretending to shiver before pulling her blanket up over her nose to block out his scent some. Draco only continued looking frustrated with her, his jaw set and eyes burning. 

“I swear, if you say I’m supposed to touch you I’ll leave you here to go mad.” 

She knew he’d tried to make the threat sound credible, but there was a tone in his voice that sounded too shaky for her to take seriously. 

“I’m sorry, I’ve never done this before, I don’t know what else will work.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, and he sneered again at her, “Give me your hand, then.” 

Forsythia snuck it out from under the covers, secretly very pleased when his eyes widened at the yellow hue of her skin. He was so warm to her when he snatched her hand into his that she shivered for real. Luckily, he seemed to interpret this as a need for him to be closer, and scooted his chair until his knee bumped into the side of the mattress. 

“Is this okay?” he asked tightly, squeezing her hand to indicate what he meant. Forsythia nodded weakly and let another tremor shake their joined hands. He rested his wand on his leg and covered their hands in his now free one, “Why are you shaking so hard?”

“I need blood, probably,” she responded, the mention of which did make her throat ache with need. His lips pursed, “I can have Hisky bring you another potion. We’ll up your regiment to three times a day.” 

Before she even nodded, he was already calling for the house elf. As soon as the potion was unstoppered, she let him awkwardly help her sit up before he shoved the bottle into her hands without further pretense. His hand lingered on her shoulder when he went to sit down again. 

It felt a little wrong to lie like this, but Forsythia felt like she didn’t have any other choice. If she was going to get out of this mess, and probably never stop running from the consequences of it, she needed to have some amount of control over him. Despite her strong feelings towards him, she wouldn’t abuse the bond too intensely if she could help it. If only so she’d be able to forgive herself later.

Despair swept through her; if she was going to let the bond form more quickly then she had to accept that she’d never be able to be apart from him for any extended length of time. She’d be tied to him forever, and as much as that scared her, she remembered her goal. Get him to protect her over everything else. Running together didn’t sound as terrible as it might have a month ago. 

Draco held her hand for an hour before he awkwardly asked if she was feeling any better. “A bit, yes. We might need to do that a couple times a week-.”

“I know. I’ve seen this bond sickness before. That’s not something I want either of us to have to deal with on top of everything else.” That was a surprise. She guessed he was mistaken - maybe he was thinking of a human who was already bonded to their Vampire? That had to be it. 

If only he knew the truth. She gave him a weak nod and then softly, like an afterthought, she said, “Thank you.” 

He froze, hand still reaching for the door handle. For a few seconds, he did nothing, and then awkwardly cleared his throat and left without another word. 

It seemed her trick had worked, though, because the next night he returned as Hisky was watching her finish her potion in bed. He handed her another calming draught and, once it was finished, too, summoned the chair again and collapsed next to her, his hand held out like he didn’t want to delay the inevitable. 

“Hi,” she breathed, allowing his presence to lift her mood. Draco rolled his eyes and beckoned her to take his hand without saying anything. Suppressing a grin, she reached out and rested her hand on top of his. A strange feeling went through her at his touch, and she realized as it warmed through her that it was affection, only she wasn’t the one feeling affectionate. 

He wouldn’t meet her eyes when she tried to look at him, though his cheeks were distinctly pink as he sat with her. The same thing happened when he came the night after that; the moment they touched, a rush of affection went through her and he’d sit silently looking embarrassed. By the fourth night, Draco had moved from the chair to perch on the edge of her bed, his fingers lingering between hers as he got up to leave. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, giving his hand an experimental squeeze. 

“You’re welcome.” 

His tone had slipped into something that made her shiver. When she looked up, he was watching her with a curious expression, and she swore she saw his eyes move down to look at her lips before he swore and moved away from her. 

She watched him pull up his left sleeve, swear again, and then throw her what looked like a frantically apologetic wince before he disapparated. If she was right about him looking at her mouth then they were getting closer. It would be clearer, his attraction, as the bond formed. An excited shiver ran up her spine, and Forsythia absently reached up to brush her fingers over her lips. 


	10. Chapter 10

“I have to go away for a couple of days. Will you be alright?” 

Guilt. 

Draco had been showing her more and more concern, and their usual hour long visits had stretched into two, and once three, hours. He was almost casual with her, now, usually resting at the foot of her bed or resting back against one of the bedposts. Instead of awkward silence, he’d started asking her questions about Fire and Fauna, about what it was like living there and being around so many men. 

That, in particular, was something he asked a lot about. It took her explaining for nearly ten minutes to help him understand how Ax was connected to her, and once he did understand he looked a little put off. She’d soothed him, rambling about how she’d never entertained Ax’s feelings for her. After that, he seemed more relaxed and went back to being curious. 

She snapped back to attention from where she’d been wistfully gazing at him while his eyes lingered on her lips. 

“Yeah, I feel fine.” 

Draco had given her one last, curt nod, before leaving her room. That had been three days ago, and he hadn’t reappeared to her. 

Forsythia finally pushed herself up out of the chair in her bedroom and forced herself to shower. Afterall, it had been a while since her last one. Once she was sufficiently warm, she brushed her hair out and let it drip down her back as she went back to her room. 

Hisky appeared a quarter of an hour later with a new potion. It was a relief as Forsythia’s throat had started aching only a few minutes prior to the elf apparating at the foot of her bed. “Master Draco insists you have another tonight, Miss Thia. He is saying that he will fetch you later in the evening to go to Oak Grove.” 

“He’s back?!” 

“Master Draco returned from Bavaria this morning, Miss Thia.” 

Excitement shot through her, then dread. Sure, she’d see him again, but only because she had to get back to work. What a trade off. 

At the rowhouse, Draco was mild towards her, nice, even. When they were at Oak Grove it was like he was somebody else; cold, demanding, cruel. She shuddered. 

As she took the potion from the elf, her eyes went as big as saucers again, “Oh, and Master Draco is wanting Hisky to make sure you is drinking the whole thing. He is also wanting you to have something to tie your hair back with, Miss Thia. Hisky is to bring it to you once you is done with the potion.” 

With a sigh, she drank the potion quickly, trying to ignore the fluttering feeling in her stomach at being full of Draco’s blood once more. Thinking too much about it made her feel too attached to him, too excited to finally see him again.  _ It hasn’t even been that long _ , she thought, annoyed with herself.

The guilt from lying to him about being sick was weighing on her, along with the fact that she hadn’t done an interrogation since Lee Jordan. It felt wrong, like she should fight or run or anything to get out of doing it. There wasn’t time, though. She’d have to go through with it. 

Forsythia sat on the floor where Hisky had indicated once the potion was gone, just in front of the bed, and the little elf climbed up behind her and started braiding her hair back. She chatted quietly, saying Draco thought she’d be more comfortable with her hair pulled back instead of hanging in her face while she worked. Forsythia held back a scoff; what did he actually care if she was comfortable? If he did, he wouldn’t be taking her back to Oak Grove. 

Then again, he’d come every night to hold her hand before he’d left. He’d spoken to her like they were just normal people, like he wanted to know her. That meant something, didn’t it?  _ Yeah, just that he doesn’t want you becoming even more of an encumbrance _ , she thought nastily to herself. 

The elf then had produced a length of black ribbon for her, ribbon that smelled strongly of Draco, and offered it for her to inspect. Runes glittered in it, and when she nodded her approval up at Hisky, the elf tied her braid off with it. 

A gentle, warm calm settled through her tense shoulders. Perhaps he’d thought ahead and had something made to keep her mood stable after the Shacklebolt incident. It was probably just another sign that the bond was happening despite her own, and she guessed his, too, displeasure. 

Now, Hisky’s words had made sense. He wanted her to be _ comfortable _ ; calm, relaxed, focused. He was making sure she wouldn’t do anything rash if she got too emotional. No, she wouldn’t get too emotional with the ribbon in her hair. He’d cut it off at the source. 

Something deep in her belly hummed with appreciation. The bond. Forsythia shuddered as she craved to be near him. Going to Oak Grove didn’t seem like such a bad idea. 

Now that she’d been closer to him physically, it, the bond, would probably continue getting stronger, too, even if they didn’t see each other as often as they had previously. That was assuming he wouldn’t come keep her company any longer. 

She knew he could feel it, he’d said as much in her cell. She hoped, selfishly, that she wasn’t being more affected than he was; that would make things messier when it came time to escape. 

A darker thought made her grimace; what if he was using the runes in the ribbon to control her more fully so he’d continue to have the upper hand? Whatever his reason, Forsythia wanted to be angry but the runes prevented her from feeling anything more than slight annoyance. Once her old boots and cloak were on, she went downstairs to wait for him. There was no use prolonging the inevitable. 

“Miss is..is not needing any food?” Hisky asked as she peeked around the kitchen door at where Forsythia sat gingerly on the extreme edge of one of the leather arm chairs in the drawing room. It didn’t sound so much like the elf was asking, more that she was looking for confirmation. 

Forsythia shook her head, “No food, Hisky. Just the potions.” 

Hisky looked concerned and like she wanted to ask several questions but settled on, “Is miss having special dietary needs? Hisky reads many cookbooks and can make anything Miss Thia needs.” Forsythia grinned at her stubbornness. 

Apparently Draco still hadn’t yet shared that she wasn’t human. She shook her head, then grinned wider, showing the hints of her fangs to the elf in what she hoped was the least threatening way, “Hisky, I’m a Vampire. I just drink the potions Draco has for me,” she said, then added hastily when the elf’s face had grown pale, “But I don’t feed from elves, and I wouldn’t ever think to. Besides, Draco makes sure I’m safe to be around for other people..and elves. People and elves. The potions make me safe.” 

She watched as the elf looked her over, timid still, before saying quietly, “Hisky is not afraid of Miss Thia. Does..does Vampires need tea? Hisky makes good teas.” Forsythia agreed to tea, and tried to ask the elf to sit with her while they waited for Draco, but Hisky insisted she needed to start dinner for him so it would be hot when they arrived back. 

The elf had been right - she did make a very good cup of tea. While Forsythia could drink the tea and probably not end up vomiting it back up, food was a whole different story. Sure, she could put it in her mouth, chew it, and swallow, but usually would be violently ill a few minutes later. There were certain foods she could keep mostly down, raw meat, for example, but why eat the equivalent of dirt when she could have Draco’s blood? There was no contest between the two. 

Forsythia ignored the urge to spit the tea back up, despite how much she liked the sweet flavor, and instead focused on staying calm and collected as the back door opened. The ribbon helped keep her muscles lax. 

With a jolt, she realized she wasn’t dreading his arrival. She was genuinely  _ happy _ and  _ excited  _ to see him again.  _ This bond _ , she thought to herself with a huff. At least it was growing, though. That was something to be pleased about. It was a little nerve wracking, though, being affected by the bond in this way. When was the last time she’d been frightened of him? She couldn’t conjure the memory. 

Distracted from her thoughts, she heard Hisky run to the door, there was a low buzz of conversation before Draco emerged from the kitchen looking pale and turbulent while the elf walked along behind him wringing her hands nervously. His expression dampened her fuzzy warm feelings for him. 

Still, her stomach swooped dangerously as he met her eyes. Cold. Demanding. Cruel. Why was she suddenly breathless? 

“Here,” he said, tossing her mask to her before rounding on the elf, “Hisky I need you to go to Severus. He’s expecting you. Come straight back here once you have everything from him, alright? Remember to apparate into the house and not the garden while I’m away.” He was short with her. Hisky bowed low, and was gone with a crack. She braced herself. 

Forsythia caught the mask and slid it into place before setting her tea down on the end table. “I didn’t know you could drink tea,” Draco said, donning his own mask. 

She met his eyes through it, “I can eat or drink what I like, it just doesn’t always end nicely.” 

He winced, then held his hand out to her, “We need to go. There’s an Order member waiting for us at Oak Grove.” 

She crossed the room before she could hesitate. He couldn’t see she was weak, not after she’d told him she’d be fine if he left her for some time. She had to show him she was ready, even though her body was thrumming as much as his ribbon would let her. 

The moment his hand closed around her forearm he turned, and then the crushing black darkness was pressing in all around her. When they landed on the busy third floor, his hand slipped down until he was holding her wrist. 

“I’m staying with you this time,” he murmured, though when he took her towards the hallway of interrogation rooms, she noticed there were several Death Eaters watching them with wary expressions. The Vampires around the room lowered their heads to her. Shimmering whispers of greeting, which she pointedly ignored. Axium wasn’t present. 

Apparently her reputation hadn’t suffered at all in her absence. 

“We have an audience?” she asked, nearly tripping on herself as Draco pulled her in closer to him. It didn’t seem like a conscious move on his part. 

“Yes. Remus Lupin is who we’re seeing today. Did you have him at Hogwarts?” he asked, though he already sounded agitated again. 

A very cold shiver went up her spine, “Yes. We were in the same class.” 

The tea from earlier suddenly felt like hot lava in her belly, and she wished she’d politely told Hisky she couldn’t drink it. Her hands shook as she clutched the sleeves of her top. He gave a noncommittal grunt in response. 

Draco paused between two doors and swung her around to face him, “Can you breathe, please? Your anxiety is very distracting,” he snapped, eyes hard and jaw set. 

She scowled at him, her stress quickly twisting into rage, “I’m  _ so  _ sorry that I’m not an emotionally unavailable killing machine, Draco! I’ve almost died being your little war toy and now, barely a few weeks after that healer told you I needed rest, you’re asking me to just go up against  _ Remus Lupin _ ? Arrest me for being anxious about it!” 

Just in time, she jerked backwards before Draco could move fast enough to grab the front of her shirt.  _ Wrong move _ , she thought to herself glumly. 

His hand closed tightly around both of her wrists, pinning them down in front of her while he grabbed her jaw in his other hand and slammed her back against the opposite wall. There was a buzz from the small crowd that had gathered to watch just down where the hall opened up into the main room. Several Vampires hissed and growled on her behalf, but they were quickly silenced. 

Her mask held fast, the pressure of it locking her jaw closed further. 

“I have been incredibly lenient with you. Do you need to be reminded of your place?” he demanded, eyes burning from behind his mask while the hand on her jaw tightened until she betrayed herself by crying out weakly.

She couldn't speak or nod with him holding her the way he was, so she forced her body to relax into his touch; she hadn't even realized she was actively leaning away from him until the pain decreased slightly as she moved forward. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

He let go of her but kept her wrists trapped in his other hand. Instantly her upper body curved forward in relief. Even if her jaw still ached, she guessed she’d be able to bite once he gave the command. At least none of her teeth had cracked. Curiously, she wondered if that was even something that could happen to her, and if it could, would they mend themselves?

“Ha! Knew Draco had her tamed like the bitch she is.” 

“I’m not so sure.” 

Her breath caught, but Draco was already moving past her to the door while he straightened his cloak and rolled his shoulders, moving the tension out of himself. 

When he reached out for the door on their left she couldn’t help but flinch away from him. He didn’t seem to notice, and pushed her inside before he snapped the door closed behind them.

Just as he said, a very disheveled and pale Professor Lupin was waiting inside. His mousy hair hung lank over his forehead and he smelled strongly of both dark magic and stress. 

Unlike any of the previous people she’d seen, he was fully restrained in what looked like metal ropes; even his chest was jammed back against the chair he’d been left in. Perhaps her interaction with Shacklebolt had led to better restraints. 

“Let’s start with two.” Draco’s tone was cool again, collected. Any sign of his previous rage with her had vanished. Professor Lupin’s eyes flickered between them, and once she turned to fully face him, he looked quite shocked. 

“Forsythia Black?” 

His voice was hoarse, like he’d been screaming. She wondered how many times the cruciatus had been used on him. Obviously enough times to make it too dangerous to use it again. That was why she was there. 

She ignored him, with the calm from the ribbon soothing her gently and Draco’s eyes on her back, she lifted the mask from her face and stretched her still aching jaw. It gave a rather unsettling pop, but afterwards glided smoothly as it stretched.

“I can’t believe you dislocated my jaw.” 

There was a prickling in her gums as her anger forced her fangs to lengthen. 

He snarked back, “You’re lucky it was  _ just _ your jaw.” 

Fear mingled with her anger. She watched from the corner of her eye as Draco’s gaze slid down her body then back up again. 

There was another swooping in her belly and as the corner of his lip twitched. Was he  _ flirting _ with her? She was appalled. When he saw the recognition in her expression, his smirk grew. 

“Come now, Black. Two. We shouldn’t keep our guest waiting.” 

Lupin looked between the two of them again, his eyes widening further, “What is this? There’s no..you can’t have her bite me. Didn’t either of you pay attention to my lessons at all? Werewolf blood is  _ poison  _ to Vampires, it will literally kill her!” He sounded beside him with shock.

Draco’s smirk vanished. His eyes locked right back up and he resumed his role as the hard, cold Death Eater he’d been trained to be. Or maybe those qualities were always there in him, Forsythia didn’t know. 

“I’m willing to take that risk.” 

Forsythia paused, looking between Lupin and Draco. The initial shocking reminder of her previous professor being a werewolf was quickly replaced by her growing fear of Draco. Part of her felt betrayed, but a darker part hoped that if she did die it would be fast; and that he would be affected by it, too, in some hopefully painful way. 

If she was dead she wouldn’t need to worry about planning some elaborate escape. If she was dead, Draco couldn’t flirt with her anymore. A pang in her chest made her breath shudder, then a jab of pain from the Nottingham wound. 

He gave her a short nod, “I said two to start with. Do  _ not _ make me repeat myself again.” 

She grimaced, forcing herself to move to Lupin’s side. He jerked to watch her, the rope creaking as he moved. 

“Forsythia, stop. I can help you, the Order can help you. They’ve accepted me and they will you, too. Sirius- We can get Sirius involved. We can hide you, we can-,” his words were drowned out as he cried out. 

His skin felt different under her teeth than other humans, tighter and stronger over his muscles and bones. She guessed that was something to do with his werewolf infection. Under it, she could feel his trapezius muscle start to twitch. It held fast before giving away as she increased her bite pressure.

Forcing herself to ignore the instant, unbearably rancid taste of his blood, she pushed as much venom into the small bite as she could. Her body started shaking as she went to take the second bite. On her tongue, his blood flooded her mouth and coated it like sticky tar. As she started to close her mouth over him, though, Lupin was already shouting to stop again. She could see his body starting to contort. Is this what a werewolf transformation looked like up close?

There was a sudden yank around her waist and she was pulled backwards. Draco had her locked against his chest, one arm around her waist and the other barred across the front of her chest. She watched, eyes wide in horror as Lupin’s body jerked harder. The sound of his tendons snapping and skin splitting was more terrifying than the icy numbness that was spreading through her mouth. 

It was surprising the ropes held, but then he was a man again, head slumped as far forward as the bindings would allow. He looked ashen, and she realized his arm was soaked with blood. Across her chin and down her neck, she could feel it, too, warm and tingling strangely. It looked so normal, red like any other human, but, inside her mouth, it was nothing she’d ever experienced before. 

It hurt, first and foremost, spreading through her and then burning her nerve endings until they went dead. Numbness flooded in its wake. 

Automatically, she turned her face away from the sight before her, though Draco didn’t let her go as far as she wanted to. “Where are you hiding Potter?” Draco asked, sounding bored and like he already knew the answer. 

The heat from Draco’s body was starting to warm her back. She pushed any thought of him away; now wasn’t the time for their bond to start acting up. What she really wanted was to physically push him off of her, but the numbness was starting to spread down into her throat and over the tops of her arms. The speed at which it dispersed itself through her was worrying. 

Lupin picked his head up, looked over at them, and simply smiled. It was a weak smile, one that made Forsythia cringe away from him further. A bead of sweat rolled down from his hairline past his temple.

“You were always a good student, Forsythia. I’d expect nothing less from a Black.” Draco started to interrupt him, but he only spoke louder,  _ “I don’t know where Harry is _ . He hasn’t sent word in months. I imagine that he, Ron, and Hermione are hiding out somewhere waiting for the right time to strike.” 

A sudden laugh from behind her made Forsythia jump hard, though Draco’s arms tightened around her to keep her from going anywhere, “We’ve caught Granger, actually. This one,” she felt him jerk to indicate her, “has already convinced her to give us whatever information we want.” 

Lupin’s face paled, but he stayed silent. So, she’d been right; she had known the girl from before. Something in the pit of her stomach sharpened like she’d been stabbed. 

“She was so terrified we were going to change her that she gave us everything.” 

Lupin cracked a maniacal grin, “Except where Harry is?” he prompted. Draco’s body went stiff behind her. She stopped breathing - the smell of Lupin’s blood was filling her and that numb feeling had made its way down both her arms and to the middle of her back.

Lupin’s scent was all moss, wet dog, and earth. It felt like she was being buried alive. Her mouth wouldn’t move, though she wanted to tell Draco she needed something to bring the feeling back into her body, needed to smell something, anything, else. All she could manage was twitching her fingers back against his leg where her arm hung uselessly, but she doubted he was paying any attention to her now. 

“Tell me where he is.” 

His voice was cold with fury. Lupin only let out a bark of a laugh, “I told you, I don’t know where he is. Nobody does. If he’s been without Hermione then that’s news to me.” 

Forsythia’s body started to move on its own; one moment she couldn’t even wiggle her fingers, the next she’d roughly grabbed Draco’s wrist and pulled it towards her mouth and nose. He allowed this, even moved to accommodate where she needed him. For the first, though surely not the last, time, Forsythia was grateful for their bond. 

He was so pliant, and she knew if not for the bond, he probably would have struck or flung her away from him. Instead, he moved closer, relaxing his hips forward against her backside and his arm lower on her hips. It felt inappropriately intimate, particularly so under the watchful eye of their former professor. 

Lupin’s eyes locked onto the movement and let out a scoff, “A blood bond is a dangerous line to walk, Malfoy. Or did your Dark Lord not tell you that the bond works  _ both _ ways?” he asked. 

Draco didn’t respond, instead shifted gently so she was held up more fully leaned into him while she simply kept her nose and lips against his skin. It did nothing to ease the icy feeling, but his smell was comforting nonetheless. 

It was odd, going back and forth between being afraid of him and being soothed by him so many times in the last hour. In fact, she was certain it was only adding to her inner confusion about him. She’d been flip flopping over how she’d felt about him in general and this wasn’t helping in the slightest. 

Feeling him against her back, though, and having his arms so tight around her, added to her fantasy of him caring for her. When Hisky had given her the ribbon, she’d questioned his motives. Now, though, feeling him squeeze tighter to her with each rush of air into his lungs squashed all other theories. He, or at least some tiny part of him, did care for her. She was sure. 

Without thinking, she grazed her teeth against his skin, his responding jolt as she drew blood only further enticing her to drink. It was sloppy, because she could barely feel her lips and tongue as she drank from him, and she knew she was making even more of a mess of herself, but Draco didn’t stop her. 

At last the numb feeling stopped spreading further, though it didn’t start to retreat. She didn’t know why she’d thought to start feeding from him, but whatever instinct in her that had forced her hand seemed to be correct. 

“He didn’t explain it, but I already guessed as much. If she aids in finding Potter there’s nothing The Dark Lord won’t sacrifice. There’s nothing that _I_ won’t sacrifice.” 

His voice made her shiver; it was all tender velvet. What was that supposed to mean, though? Her mind was too hazy, too focused on drinking as much as he’d let her to even open her eyes.

Lupin snorted, “It was a tragedy, what happened to her. And you just want to use her to be promoted. That’s low, even for you, Draco.” 

“What I use her for is my business.” 

Another shiver. There was a strange tension in his touch as he held her hips tighter, his forearm barred across the front of her as he dragged her back to be flush with him. 

There was a stunned silence, then Lupin said, “You can’t mean what I think you mean. That’s-well, shit, that’s-.” he didn’t finish. 

Forsythia peered at him for a moment, annoyed by how utterly shocked he looked. Why did he care so much? Because he was friends with Sirius? If that was the case why hadn’t they sought her out sooner? Why hadn’t they come to her rescue before Draco beat them to it? She let her eyes close again. 

When Draco started pulling his wrist from her, she whined at the loss; her mouth had just got the feeling back in it. He was quick to slip her mask back into place as he shushed her, gentle still. Forsythia pouted, feeling very much like a child as he turned her in his arms and held her to his chest.

“I believe we’re not the only ones paying you a visit tonight, Remus. I’ll have word sent to your wife and son to begin funeral preparations.” 

There was a cruel smirk in Draco’s voice that made Forsythia again want to step away from him despite how comfortable it was being in his arms. She didn’t have a chance before he turned on the spot; then there was only the intense darkness of disapparating. 


	11. Chapter 11

As soon as her feet hit the pavement in the back garden, she flung herself away from his chest. The few seconds of apparating had certainly helped squeeze her head clear. Unfortunately, she’d pushed a little too hard and stumbled sideways before collapsing down onto the side of her thigh. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly got a weak stomach.” His voice was cold, furious. Apparently she wasn’t the only one who’d sobered up. 

They glared at each other for a few moments before his rigid posture relaxed infinitesimally. 

“You can’t act that way when we’re at Oak Grove. Nor when we’re in the presence of other Death Eaters.” Something had shifted. He sounded almost pleading with her. 

“I can only explain away so much, Thia.” 

She looked up at him, squinting as the moonlight had turned him as pale as she was and erased most of the scars on his face, “Explain what?” she snapped. Explain how  _ suggestively  _ he’d been holding her? How he’d said he’d use her in essentially any way he pleased? What about how he’d sat in her bed with her for so many nights, touching her and asking her an endless list of questions about her life before they’d come to know each other this way? 

He could honestly take his pick. 

Anger burned through the parts of herself she could feel. If he wanted a row, he’d get a row. She didn’t care that he could physically hurt her again, or that he could turn his wand on her. In fact, she hoped if he did either he’d end up killing her there in the garden so it would finally be over. 

His face twisted with anger, too, “Explain why I’m not as rough with you as the others are with theirs. Why you’re in my house and not locked away down on the prison floor. How you, more often than not, come out of interrogations perfectly unharmed and not half-crazed like the other Vampires. If you don’t start acting like-like you’re being borderline tortured  _ they will take you away from me and give you to somebody else or worse. _

“Don’t you understand? I moved you here to keep anyone from seeing what good condition you’re in. They can’t see that you’re being..that I’m..taking care of you.”

He was breathing hard, his scent pouring off of him in waves due to his stress. 

“ _ You _ said The Dark Lord wanted you to keep me close because of what happened at the manor, because I’d  _ shown my loyalty _ ! To be your- your protection.” She flinched as he raked his hand back through his hair.

“Yes, he did advise to keep you close. He did not, however, tell me to _move_ _you into my house._ If you become insubordinate when we’re in front of _anybody_ at Oak Grove I won’t be able to make any excuses and you’ll be disposed of or worse! That doesn’t even broach the subject of what will happen to _me_ if I show any weakness of lack of discipline with you.” 

She didn’t want to think about it, but a flash of Draco writhing on the floor while somebody used the cruciatus on him made her feel like she was about to be sick. Professor Lupin’s blood was doing nothing to help her stomach. 

Forsythia met his eyes anxiously, “What do I need to do? To keep you safe?” 

Her earlier fears of having to start over with somebody new came to the forefront of her mind as well. If he was already this upset at the thought of losing her it wouldn’t take much more before their bond was solidified, and possibly eternalized. It had taken months of drinking his blood to get this far, and if she did have to start over with somebody new, and they were worse to her than he was, she didn’t think she’d survive it. Nor would she have a chance at escaping from them. 

She forced herself to stay detached, to not let the whispering voice that told her she needed him, too, that she would do anything to keep him with her, become too loud. It wasn’t that she needed him, she told herself, it was just the bond forcing those feelings. The only thing she needed was to escape. She felt like she was forgetting that was her goal; freedom. 

It dawned on her at some point she’d probably start wanting to bring him along in the escape, too if she couldn’t get away from him before the bond was complete. After all, she was already terrified of being removed from him. If it was possible, could she save him, too? 

Forsythia tried to keep those thoughts and feelings apart from herself, like she was watching a stranger decide them instead of herself. It was the only way to remain objective, but being objective or logical about Draco was becoming increasingly difficult. 

He deflated; his shoulders slumped and his hand found his hair again as he pushed it back from his damp forehead, “We should go inside. Do you need help getting up?” Forsythia, half her body still numb, nodded meekly. 

He didn’t hesitate as he moved closer and swung her up into his arms. With her skin so close to his, she couldn’t tell the difference between them in the moonlight. 

Her strength was quickly fading, and despite still wanting nothing more than to get away from him, Forsythia let her head rest against his shoulder as her eyes slipped closed. She’d let him comfort her once more. The proverbial pendulum of her feelings swung back again. 

He paused just outside the back door, shifting her around until he had her balanced in the crook of his arm. As he reached for the door, he licked his lips nervously. 

“Your hair looks nice pulled back.” 

She’d almost missed the sound of his voice over the creek of the door, and if her heart still beat she was certain it would have been pounding. His made up for her lack, and she could feel it thrumming in his chest against the side of her torso. 

As soon as they stepped inside, Hisky was fluttering around them and twittering like a little bird. “Is Miss Thia alright, Master Draco? Hisky has warm soup and more tea for Miss Thia and a stew for you, sir. Is she needing more potions?” She asked a mile a minute, taking Draco’s cloak from him and skittering hurriedly around them looking for things to do, it seemed. 

He waved her off, “Yes, she’ll need two potions, and-,” she felt him shift to look down at the elf, “-thank you for dinner. Thia won’t need any tea or soup, but I’m sure she appreciates it nonetheless.” 

“Is she not able to be talking, sir?” Hisky asked, her worry plain in her voice. Draco shook his head, “She’s fine, Hisky, just weak. The potions,” he said, then added a quick ‘please’ when Forsythia sighed heavily at him. It was all she could manage at the moment.

“You should be nicer to her, she’s a very good elf,” she whispered as soon as he’d set her down in the same leather armchair she’d occupied before they’d left. It was difficult to sit upright on her own, but she managed to crack her eyes open to glower at him. 

He glared right back at her, “You’re going to tell me how to treat my servants now?” 

She didn’t bother answering him because Hisky came wobbling in, unbalanced with the weight of both bottles and a plate of food for Draco. She set Forsythia’s potions down on the table between them. Once Draco was served an overflowing plate that made Forsythia wrinkle her nose, she disappeared again. 

“What? Drink your potion.” 

She hadn’t taken her eyes off of him as he slumped down in the seat next to her. Earlier, he’d let her drink from himself on her terms; willingly, even. The way he’d adjusted himself to give her room when she maneuvered him around made her stomach flutter. 

When she didn’t respond, he set his fork down and turned to her again, “Why are you staring at me?” 

There was a shift; she went from being angry and frightened of him to being in a rather good mood. It was like a cautious blanket of warm, playful affection fell over the two of them. A bemused expression warmed her face as his cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink. This bond would be the death of her, but it was too late to reign it back in. 

“You let me drink from you.” 

“Yes. Don’t make me regret it.” 

“I can’t drink my potion on my own, my hands don’t work.” 

His eyes flashed, “If this is some stupid scheme of yours to get me to wait on you-,” his jaw set, and after a moment, he set his plate on the end table and sighed haughtily.

“Is it..will it heal you faster if it’s fresh?” 

Her stomach turned over. The first thought that popped into her head was that it certainly would, as that was what had worked in the interrogation room, but then as she watched him curiously, she noticed that his eyes were slightly glazed. 

_ Oh no _ , she thought to herself. He was asking because he  _ wanted  _ her to drink from him. For some silly reason, she’d been under the impression the bond wasn’t affecting him as much as it was her.

Fleetingly, she wondered if his earlier pounding heart was from a romantic kind of nerves instead of just regular self-conscious nerves. She wished that she could read him the same way he seemed to be able to read her. 

She must have made a face because Draco scowled, “Don’t go getting any stupid ideas. I’m just tired of hearing you complain about it, and I don’t want to have to do everything for you until you get yourself together on your own.” he snapped. It was already clear, though, and despite herself, she grinned underneath her mask. 

“You like it, don’t you?” 

Her question hung in the air while his scowl darkened. She counted a full minute before he let out another annoyed sigh, “It’s not..painful.” His expression certainly looked pained and it sounded to her like he was choosing his words carefully. It only made her grin widen. 

“Stop looking so pleased.” 

“I’ve just never done this before. I didn’t know how it would be for you. After all, when I bite somebody in interrogation they don’t like it very much.” 

His eyes narrowed on her mask suddenly, “Take that stupid thing off.” 

She twitched her fingers against her thigh, “I still can’t use my hands. You take it off if you want it gone that badly.” Were they flirting again? When he raised his hand she jerked back from him, wincing and waiting for him to do his worst. Even though she knew he’d probably reach for her, anticipated it, even, having him actually do it was instantly terrifying. Her jaw twinged in anticipation. 

She heard him inhale sharply under his breath and when she looked back at him, he was startled, “You think I’d..you really think I’d hit you?” he asked, eyes wide. 

He looked younger now, something was innocent in the way his eyes moved anxiously over her face. It was the same way he’d looked at her when he’d found her passed out in a puddle of her own sick after the manor. 

“I wouldn’t put it past you, no,” she answered honestly. When he looked almost hurt she scoffed at him. “You dislocated my jaw earlier-”

“Only because there were others around. Do you understand what he’ll do to me, to both of us, if we don’t find Potter? Because it’ll be a hell of a lot worse than a dislocated jaw, Forsythia!”

The sound of him using her full name made her freeze. Almost too afraid to know the answer, she asked, “What do you mean what he’ll do to us? I thought you were some high ranking general or something. Can’t you get away with more?” 

Much slower, Draco leaned across the arm of his chair and lifted the mask from her face, “I am. There’s a lot of expectation on me being the age I am, in the position I am.” He set it down next to her now cold teacup. 

She shot the mask a glare before she met his eyes again, “You still haven’t told me what I need to do when we’re around the others” she said, wincing as her stomach flipped again. There was a sharp pain just under her ribs, like a stab. She held in a cry but couldn’t mask her abrupt grimace.

Professor Lupin said that his blood would kill her. Was this what it felt like to die as she was now? When she was human, it had been like slowly lowering a dimmer switch that controlled her entire body. Now, she felt like she’d done too many shots of firewhiskey on an empty stomach. 

“Are you about to be sick?” 

“I think so.” 

Draco called for Hisky, and the little elf took her to the downstairs toilet without any trouble despite having to let her lean heavily into her. As soon as she started throwing up, Hisky grabbed onto her braid and held it back from her face. Her tiny hand rubbed surprisingly comforting circles across her back, and again her affection for the elf soared. 

-*-

“You certainly are sick a lot,” Draco’s deep drawl drifted in from the still open door. As soon as her stomach was sufficiently empty, and Lupin’s now black blood had created quite a mess of the bathroom, she peeked up at him and whispered an apology. 

His expression softened, “I apologize if having you bite him came across as anything more than a task we were set out to do. Nothing about this-,” he gestured to her still sitting on her knees with Hisky holding her hair, “-is amusing to me.” 

Forsythia snorted, but Hisky held herself to her fullest height and looked impossibly stubborn, “Master Draco is being too hard on Miss Thia. She is trying her best, sir, and she is weak and needs her potions.” She looked surprised at herself, and both Draco and Forsythia mirrored her expression. 

For a moment, she was worried Draco would be angry, but he only looked sheepish as he held his hand out to gesture towards her, “I’ll take care of her, Hisky.” 

The elf stood back and allowed him to scoop her up again for the second time that day. 

“I’ll take care of the mess, too, you can be done for this evening.” 

Hisky watched them turn to leave, then said quietly that the new potions from Severus were in the kitchen. With a snap of her fingers, she vanished. 

All at once, Forsythia realized how empty and weak she was. Her eyelids barely fluttered as Draco brought her down onto his lap in the armchair, “I know this position is..awkward. I’m not sure how else to hold you so you don’t make an even bigger mess of yourself,” he admitted, certainly sounding awkward. 

It was nice, though, leaning into him and feeling his heart against her again. She didn’t mind the position. It calmed her, like having physical proof he was there and she wasn’t alone. Of course, there was the bond working through her, too. With a shiver, she watched him draw the tip of his wand across his wrist as he had done before, and once the cut was deep enough, he shifted her up and pressed it to her lips. 

“You still have his blood on your face, by the way,” he said, though his tone was lighter now. Forsythia ignored him in favor of letting his blood consume her. Every breath she drew was him; cedar, fresh rain, dragon leather, and now, something sweet like apple. Three swallows in, she could start to feel her body again. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, a rush of emotions overcame her; fear, desperation, fury, panic, and lastly, affection for him. Forsythia tried to ignore it; she was supposed to be healing, not getting overwhelmed.

He didn’t stop her, didn’t even flinch under her when she reached up and gripped his arm with both hands to keep him still. It felt like she needed to anchor herself to him, and his arm was the only thing she felt comfortable snatching. He shifted behind her, leaned over her shoulder and then swiped his thumb across her cheek and whispered, “Why are you crying?” 

She didn’t want to stop drinking, but she also didn’t want him to see her crying either. Why was she crying now? Maybe it was the fact that roughly two hours ago he’d almost snapped her jaw in two? Or maybe, it was because it was such a relief to simply be alone with him again. Draco rested his fingers against her cheek, “Thia, stop drinking and tell me what’s going on.” 

He hadn’t commanded her, but he might as well have.

She sat back from his wrist, chest aching from holding in the sobs that wanted to wrack her body. Draco closed the wound before he turned her to face him, “Talk to me. You can relax here. I won’t be cross with you for anything.” 

“That’s a big promise,” she whispered. He only looked confused, and now that she was so close to his face she could make out that the scar across his nose was actually two set close together. She studied him there, instead, and continued in the same whisper, “I’m not designed for this, Draco. I’m too inexperienced. It’s like you said, I throw up the second any amount of dark magic gets inside me. I’ve barely..barely been like this for four years. I..I can’t even be alone in this house without crying like a baby...,” she trailed off, not sure what else to say. 

It wasn’t like she could genuinely confide in her captor. Even though she knew that, the words had slipped out anyways.

He was quiet, still looking rather confused, then it was like a lightbulb went off in his head as realization washed over his expression. “How old are you?” 

“Seventeen.” 

“No, I didn’t ask when you stopped aging. I asked how old you are.” 

“Twenty-three.” 

Again, he was quiet. His thumb twitched against her cheek as the seconds ticked by. “I’m also twenty-three. See? So, we’re basically in the same boat age wise. What house were you in at school?”

“Why does this matter?”

“If we’re both going to live through this, I need you to trust me. The fastest way to build trust is to get to know each other better.” She snorted at him. How the tables had turned. 

“Don’t snort at me. I know I’m hard on you, but I  _ need  _ you to trust that I’m..that I’m doing the right thing. Now, come on. Tell me what house you were in.” 

“Slytherin. We were in a lot of the same classes, actually.” 

Even if her memories of him were dark and scant, it was still the truth. 

He looked surprised, “Really? I don’t remember you at all.” 

Her eyebrow quirked, “I looked very different back then. Vampirism changes a person.” 

His eyebrow quirked, too. He asked what she meant.

“Well,” she started, “the teeth for one.” To prove her point, she opened her mouth enough to show him her fangs as she urged them to descend. 

His thigh shifted under her bum as he tilted to get a better look, “Ah.” 

Once he inspected them, he gave her a little nod, “Then there’s the fact of my face.” 

A smile ghosted over his lips, “Of course the next thing you’d mention is your face. Such a girl.” 

She ignored him, continuing, “My bone structure completely changed. I used to be more..round,” she said, miming with her hands. Draco nodded along. 

“I suppose your skin hasn’t always looked so corpse-like, either?” 

“No. Not quite this dead looking.” 

“And your eyes used to be brown, weren’t they?” 

Forsythia leaned back from him, though his hand followed her as he continued to stroke her cheek. 

“You said you didn’t remember me.” 

The affectionate feeling warmed in her belly, though it wasn’t from her own feelings towards him that it originated. The bond had to be linking his emotions into hers.

“As you’ve been talking, I have. I was never cruel to you, was I? Back then,” he added hastily when he saw her eyes turn steely. In truth, he hadn’t ever indicated that he’d known she’d existed, so she shook her head. 

  
  


“No. You were..” what had he been? 

She struggled for a moment before she said, “You were always very busy running around the place. I kept mostly to myself.” By ‘running around the place’ she’d meant he was always off with Pansy Parkinson or Crabbe and Goyle. Not that she was jealous. He didn’t seem to know how to respond, so he shifted her back into his chest. 

“This bond we have..I’ve heard from other Death Eaters that it can get really intense. Though they’re all with males and apparently that makes a difference.” 

She nodded, “I’ve seen the difference it makes first hand.”

The men in the pub always had a good laugh over how possessive dams were to their bonded humans. The memory made her shiver with disgust. This wasn’t something she’d ever wanted to experience firsthand in this way, from her own point of view, but now she was being forced to in order to survive. 

“When you were first brought in I was genuinely shocked. I knew..er, well, I knew you’d been attacked and everyone thought you were dead. Even was a thing in the Prophet about it. Was that when you were changed or was that all staged to make it look like an accident?”

“No, it wasn’t staged. That was when it happened.” 

“What  _ did _ happen?”

She suppressed a shudder. The one thing she’d been trying so hard to forget was suddenly staring her in the face. With a loud, dry gulp, she shook her head, “He, the bonded human, was in the Leaky Cauldron. I was there with the girls from my dorm. He cut himself open, screaming for his dam. The Vampire came but by then there was so much blood I don’t think she could tell who was who. It was a full frenzy. I wasn’t fast..I’d just passed the test and didn’t apparate quickly enough. When she realized what she’d done, that I was a witch and breathing, she changed me. 

“She liked me, I think. The second she saw me, she had to change me. I didn’t stand a chance, even if he hadn’t done anything and had just waited for her to show up. Even if she’d come without his blood being everywhere, I think she would have chosen me. I remember her whispering that she’d do everything to make me hers.” 

“How did you survive it?”

“Well, I was nearly dead already. She’d bitten me half a dozen times and put so much venom in me,-” Forsythia choked, gnawing on her lip for a moment before she skipped ahead in her story a little bit, “She gave me her blood and then dragged me out behind a bin in the alley behind the pub. The Aurors..well, I could hear her screaming from where I was when they showed up. I think she was hoping that she could come back for me, or something, but I stayed there until night fell, then I ran when I could move.

“The change took about a day, so by the next morning I was..like this. I tried to starve myself to see if I would die but that only made me hurt people so I..I hunted really carefully from then on.” 

Her voice was hollow. Draco didn’t say anything, either. 

Finally, he reached over and brought a potion to her, “Drink this,” he said, his voice silky. So, she drank. It wasn’t as nice as drinking directly from him, but he held her there against him until she’d finished both. 

It was an interesting contrast to how he’d been so cruel to her in Oak Grove.

“Feel better?” he asked. Not even bothering to hide it, she nodded, “Yes, thank you.” Draco got his arms back around her after guiding hers around his neck and lifted her as he stood, “I’m taking you to bed unless you wanted a shower.” 

A shower was exactly what she wanted.

“How did you..” she trailed off, knowing if she could blush her face would have been beet red. It was scary how he seemed to read her mind so casually. He smirked, and it looked almost playful, “You're still covered in blood.” 

She stayed very still until he set her carefully on the edge of her bed. If he was going to have to help her bathe, then she wanted nothing to do with it.  _ That  _ would certainly be too much. The second she made the decision not to shower, Draco smirked down at her. 

“No shower then? Alright.  _ Scourgify _ .” 

The cleansing charm made her wince, it was a bit of a rough choice but Draco looked satisfied with her clean face. 

“Tomorrow I’ll come get you in the afternoon. By now they will have healed Remus. If he truly doesn’t know where Potter is, then we’ll have to go out and find him ourselves.” She couldn’t meet his eyes as she reached up and caught his hand. Draco squeezed it once, then turned to leave but she couldn’t let go. 

“ _ Just _ us?” 

“Unfortunately it will most likely be a party. But we will have some time for just us. If you want, I mean. There will be enough potions brought along that you won’t need me directly. Unless...” he trailed off and she finally looked up at him. 

She couldn’t recall exactly at what point he started looking a little less dangerous. Instead of his sharp features being intimidating, suddenly she was reminded of statues of greek gods. Draco asked her if she wanted him to wait a little while before he left her, but she was too busy looking him over to respond. 

Her chest shuddered as she traced the lines of his scars with her eyes, from the thin one in his eyebrow, over the ones on his cheeks and then down to a particularly cruel one that stretched from just in front of his ear down onto his neck. 

When she didn’t answer, he cleared his throat, “Did you need me to stay with you tonight?” 

The question made her go cold. Did she? The want was certainly there, that was clear. She shook her head, eyes pinned to their entwined fingers ruefully. What was happening to her? More importantly, what was happening to  _ them _ ? 

“Right. Well..,” he cleared his throat again. 

Neither of them moved, though. He seemed just as unwilling to leave her. “Oh for fucks sake,” he grumbled, pulling on her hand until she jerked up to stand. He took her waist and turned on the spot. Suddenly she was dropping back onto a bed, his bed, from the rush of his scent. 

Draco was leaning over her, eyes burning again as he slowly let go of her waist. Forsythia stayed frozen under him. It was a shock, but a rather pleasant one. 

“I know you don’t sleep, but I need to,” he said feverishly, “Just..just stay here, okay? I don’t want you getting bond sickness again.” 

His bond sickness excuse sounded like an afterthought, but she appreciated it nonetheless. At least he was willing to soften the blow of how badly he needed her near him. 

Forsythia was hyper aware of how he leaned over her, his hands twitching at her sides and his eyes wild. 

“It’s okay, I’ll stay.” 

She reached up in slow motion to touch his face. He flinched, then cautiously leaned into her touch, “R-Right, yes, alright.” 

So this, the warm feeling that seemed to travel from his cheek into her palm and then down her arm, was what it felt like to have him trust her. That would be important to remember. 

As he had the night he’d left her in the cell for the last time, Draco removed her shoes for her, dropping them over the side of his bed before trading his black work shirt for a sweater from his wardrobe. He tapped his wand against his trousers and they fluttered into soft flannel pajama pants. She almost smiled at the silver serpent on the front of his jumper that seemed to shimmer in the darkness. 

When he came back to bed, he put a respectful twelve inches of space between them.

“Tomorrow,” he said, already sounding half asleep and much more relaxed now that he was next to her, “when we go, I need you to pretend nothing is happening around you. Don’t look at anybody and especially not at me. You need to look like you’re submissive towards me. Just keep your head down and ignore what’s going on around us, okay?” When she took too long to answer, Draco caught her chin and urged her to look at him, “Is that clear?” 

The edge in his voice made her sigh, “Yes, I understand. Be quiet, act like I’m not there, don’t look at you. I got it.” He looked pleased and slid his hand up so he could hold her cheek again, his touch light and soft as if she’d break if he pushed too hard. 

“Good. Just remember that and it’ll be fine.” 

-*- 

The next morning, Forsythia lie with her back to him. The sun was starting to rise, and even though it wasn’t very comfortable, she stayed facing the window for as long as she could. That had been potentially the one good thing about the old cell - no sunlight. Alternatively, it was also incredible feeling the warmth from it once more despite how feverish it made her feel. Pros and cons. 

She barely started to turn over when the curtains drew themselves closed and Draco’s voice made her jump, as previously she’d thought he was still sleeping. 

“Come out of the sun, Thia,” he grumbled, his voice gravelly and rough from sleep. 

They were swallowed by the new darkness, and Forsythia shivered at the potential implication of that; he was sealing her off from the outside world for himself. She rested on her other side, facing him. 

“You always smell so nice,” he breathed, reaching out to carefully and blindly touch her cheek. The blanket of what she now recognized as his affection for her grew heavier. She wondered if he was in some kind of trance; he’d never been this affectionate towards her. 

“I usually think the same thing about you,” she couldn’t help but laugh at him. 

Draco’s eyes opened into slits and he glared down at her, “Are you always so loud this early in the morning?” 

“No, but I also don’t tend to share a bed with strange men I barely know.” 

“Well..what do you want to know?”

She paused, glowering at him. “What am I supposed to ask? I’m in bed with you and you’re half-naked.” 

“I have a jumper and pants.” 

“You took your jumper off three hours ago and threw it on the floor.” 

“Oh. I don’t recall.” 

As if to further prove her point, she pointed to his bare chest. She realized his hand was still on her cheek when he scowled and said, “You’re freezing.” 

She nodded, bored; had he really never realized this before? 

“Did you really just sit here all night then?” She nodded again, still bored. 

His eyebrows knit together, but he stayed quiet. It looked like he couldn’t figure out why she would do such a thing if she didn’t have to sleep. “Being close to you is…helps with the bond sickness.” 

She wasn’t sure how to explain it without giving too much away; she feared he didn’t understand how intense the bond was becoming due to her encouraging it along in any little way she could. It was a precarious situation; she wanted the bond to be completed but only if it meant escape.

Plus, it was rather using fun using his own excuse against him. Maybe he’d also appreciate her dodging of the real issue the way she had when he’d done the same thing. 

Much to her surprise, though, Draco turned pink and grumbled, “I know. That’s why I brought you here last night. This is  _ just  _ the bond, though, isn’t it?” he asked, timid. 

“Yes, I think so. That’s from my half, though. It’s supposed to encourage you to want to stay close to me that way I can feed whenever I need to.” 

The moment the words left her lips, she wished she hadn’t said anything. Draco winced away from her and stood, mumbling something about wanting a shower before they got ready to leave. It was too difficult to keep her eyes off of him as he walked into the adjoining bathroom, so she looked. 

His back was as muscled as his front, and equally as scarred. There was a series of straight lines across his lower back that looked particularly odd, too neat to have been from an attack or duel, and she wondered if he’d ever been tortured himself. Her heart sank at the thought. Even when he disappeared from view, she stared at the now empty spot he’d taken up feeling incredibly heartbroken for him. 

She was surprised when he leaned back around the ensuite door and said, “You should go get ready, too.” 

All she could do was stare at him. He disappeared again and she heard the shower turn on. When she didn’t move fast enough, he called over the spray, “Forsythia,  _ go _ .” 

Her body lurched forward, and she swore all the way to her bedroom that she’d get him back somehow. 

How could he be almost sweet to her one second, holding her cheek and looking over her face like he was memorizing it, then the next be so sharp, ordering her out of bed and snapping at her to get ready? It made her head hurt; or at least, it would have if it could. Forsythia grumbled to herself as she slammed her bedroom door and hoped he’d heard.

It only took her a few minutes to get dressed, and she called Hisky to help her with her hair. “It is getting too long, Miss Thia. Hisky knows how to cut hairs,” the elf grumbled as she brushed out the braid she’d done in her hair the previous evening. 

Forsythia played back gently, “If we cut it too short we won’t have anything to braid, though.” Hisky made an unconvinced sounding grumble and set to work while Forsythia tried not to think about Draco’s back. She failed, and caved. 

“Hisky, has Draco ever..well, did you live with him in his family’s home?”

“Yes, miss, Hisky was growing up with Master Draco.” 

“He has a lot of scars for somebody so young.” 

“Master Draco has been through a lot, Miss Thia.” 

“There are some on his lower back. They’re really..weird looking. Do you know where he got them?”

Hisky was quiet, and Forsythia wondered if she’d asked too much of the elf. To her relief, Hisky sighed behind her and said, “Master Draco left Hisky for a long time. When he returned he could not walks or talks at all, Miss Thia. He would not tell Hisky what happened, but he had many, many new wounds that Hisky has to tend to. The darkest mark had appeared, too.” 

“The darkest mark?”

“Yes, miss. On Master Draco’s arm. The snake.”

A freezing chill went up Forsythia’s back, though she didn’t stifle her shiver in front of Hisky. She felt her tie off the end of her braid, and then Hisky clambered down to stand in front of her, “Hisky knows Master Draco can be tough on Miss Thia, but Master Draco is very kind deep down. Hisky cannot say more, Miss Thia, but Master Draco is a kind wizard.” 

Forsythia stared into the elf’s eyes, and she stared right back into hers. She wondered if whatever it was that the elf couldn’t say was because Draco had forbidden her to share. 

“It’s okay, Hisky. Thank you for doing my hair for me, I really appreciate it.” 

The elf looked so beside herself that tears started welling up in her big eyes. “It is Hisky’s pleasure, Miss Thia.” She watched as Hisky used the neck of her tea towel dress to wipe her eyes and then popped away after Forsythia squeezed her tiny hand affectionately. 

Not five minutes later, Draco knocked and asked if he could come in. She pushed herself up and opened the door for him before flitting back to sit on the bed. He raised an eyebrow at her but stepped inside, carefully shutting the door behind him and leaning back against it. She was struck by how handsome he looked with his hair damp and his eyes bright as he regarded her. 

She watched, frozen with an amused expression plastered over her face as his eyes subtly moved from where her braid had fallen over her shoulder up to her mouth. If she could blush, Forsythia was certain she would have. 

Surely  _ this _ was flirting; did checking somebody out count as flirting?

“I..wanted to make sure you were alright, after staying in my b-ed,” his expression tightened as he winced when he stumbled over the word. 

“It’s okay, I’m fine. We don’t have to talk about it.”

“I want to explain,” he muttered, jaw set and eyes hard as he met hers again. 

Her breath caught and she decided not breathing at all was the best option just in case he’d noticed. If he had, Draco was too focused on staring into her soul to say anything about it. 

“Um..the bond,” He started lamely. When she stayed quiet he sighed and dropped his head, his shoulders hunching forward, “I fought it, until last night. Until I saw you..I was worried if I didn’t grab you, and if Remus was correct, that you might actually be hurt. Then before, with Kingsley, when you actually did get hurt. I couldn’t..I don’t understand why I’m like this because I can tell what’s the bond and what’s just..just me. I thought if I stayed away from you it would lessen it. Clearly it’s just made me.. _ regardless _ , I don’t think fighting it is the right course of action.” 

She could tell in the way his voice shook that he didn’t like this any more than she did. That was a comfort, at least. 

“And you understand what not fighting it could mean for you?” she asked, barely whispering. Was this just another piece of the bond forcing his feelings? Then again, he had said that he could tell the difference between what was him and what was the bond. Could he actually have started to care for her? He had to, didn’t he?

“That I will essentially become to you what you were supposed to become to me? Yes. I am okay with being that way with you, I suppose. Or, at least, the bond is helping me be okay with it. I don’t think you’ll abuse it.” 

Internally, she winced. Did he know she was absolutely planning to abuse their bond if it meant freedom? Then again, she remembered the man in the pub. Would she genuinely be okay with driving him to that point?  _ No _ , she thought firmly. 

The world felt like it shifted several degrees. It happened, as she’d expected. Now her escape plan involved him, too. 

She glanced up to see his face but his expression was hard and blank again. There was something, though, deep in his eyes that reminded her of a dragon looking at its hoard. “Okay,” she breathed. 

If he was giving in, then that only meant a sure fire escape for them, right? He’d be willing to do anything she asked of him, if he was being honest and was genuinely not going to fight the bond any longer. He’d run with her if she asked, then he could hide away with her. A dragon and his hoard. 

She didn’t want to seem too eager, but her plan, now including him, was falling into place so effortlessly that it was hard not to smile. There was a pang of guilt, but her excitement outweighed it. 

“Besides, I thought after I started showing you such  _ obvious  _ physical affection that you would have realized that this was coming eventually.” 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“When I held your hand and touched your cheek. I’d never touched you like that before so I thought it would be obvious.”

Disbelief filled her.  _ That  _ was what he thought obvious physical affection was? She stared at him, eyes wide and lips parted. He glared right back, though she watched his eyes slip down to look at her lips again. After several minutes he set his jaw and looked pointedly away from her. 

“Are you angry with me, then?” he asked.

“No, I’m in shock.”

“Why?”

“It’s just..you’re right, I should have been able to tell that you’d changed.” 

Even more surprisingly, he smirked suddenly, like there was a punchline she was missing, “Don’t sound so surprised.” 

They glared at each other, him much less furious than she was, before she stood quickly and went to grab the boots he’d left in her wardrobe since her usual pair were still on his bedroom floor. He looked terribly attractive leaning casually back against the door with his eyes glued to her, and she did everything in her power to ignore him.

Even with his declaration, they still had to go to Oak Grove, and that meant acting as aloof towards him as possible. If she started now the transition would be less sloppy. She needed to do what he’d said. 

Much more quickly than she usually let him see her move, she was tying her boots while sitting on the edge of her bed within two seconds. Draco blinked, “You’ve been moving so slow, I thought maybe you’d been too weak from everything that’s gone on. Is it safe to assume that you’ve always been able to move like that?” She nodded briskly, not meeting his eyes as she swept her cloak on and glided past him. 

He caught her hand at the last second then fell into step beside her as they went downstairs, his fingers tangling between hers. Forsythia glanced down at their hands, but when she looked back up he was bright pink and furiously looking at anything but her. So much for aloof.

Hisky was waiting, a full breakfast plate ready for Draco and a potion and steaming cup of tea for Forsythia. “Good morning sir and miss,” she squeaked, bowing low. Draco leaned down and patted her wide head, “Hisky, have the morning to yourself. We’ll be back later tonight for a quick stop in and then we’ll be leaving on an extended trip. Will you be alright to stay here alone or would you rather go back to the family manor with the other elves?” 

Hisky looked beside herself, “I-I will wait here for sir and miss. The m-manor is..is..,” she shook her head so hard her ears wobbled. 

Draco patted her again, “I understand. You’ll have the house to yourself, then. We’ll be back later, like I said.” 

The little elf bowed so low her nose almost touched the floor, and she didn’t move from that position until Draco led Forsythia into the garden. It was shaded, as it was still before noon, though Draco still reached around her and pulled her hood up.

“Remember what we discussed. Just keep your eyes down.” 

Gently, he lifted her mask up and let her set her face into it. Another wave of almost intimacy made her shiver, and he seemed very aware as he kept his hand against the mask for a moment longer. With that, he gave her hand a squeeze before he took her arm and turned on the spot. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **this chapter gets really dark. if you're bothered by extreme violence/abuse please be cautious**

The third floor had even more people in it than it had after the manor incident. Death Eaters were taking up almost every available space, and Forsythia shivered when she saw two full grown mountain trolls, held onto by three Death Eaters a piece by heavy thick chains that were connected to equally thick collars around their necks. They were struggling to keep the trolls in one spot, so several other Death Eaters lazily shot stunning spells at the troll’s feet anytime they tried to stomp too far out of their three foot range. 

The usual clusters of Vampires bowed their heads. More wary looks to her and Draco from the other Death Eaters as they made their way through the room. 

Draco pulled her closer to him as his voice whispered in the back of her mind to keep her head down. Forsythia flicked her hood off now that they were inside, but otherwise stayed tucked just behind his shoulder. His hand was tense around her forearm, but it was mostly for show; even though his knuckles were turning white he wasn’t hurting her at all. They moved silently back to where they’d interrogated Lupin the day before. 

Another Death Eater came out of the room, swearing thickly and wrapping his hand in a dirty looking rag, “-bastard won’t stop biting anybody that goes near him. Malfoy!” he said, jumping when he saw them standing just outside the door. Forsythia kept her eyes pinned hard to where he held her arm. 

“Rowle. He hasn’t given it up, then?”

“N-No, sir. After you left last night we had another vamp, Rosier’s, come in and bite him half a dozen times. It died..er, uh..stopped unliving, or..eh..,” 

Malfoy snorted, sounding annoyed, “Yes, go on.” 

There was a moment’s hesitation where she felt the other Death Eater turn his attention to her, “Didn’t yours bite him, too?” 

The unspoken question hung in the air; how was she not also dead. 

“I left to take her to be healed. She’s more valuable than the others at this point, and that’s directly from The Dark Lord.” 

His tone made her shiver. If he was trying to keep the possessive edge out of his tone he was failing rather miserably. 

She felt him shift against her, and it felt like there was a breeze in the hall for just a moment before it disappeared as quickly as it had come. His explanation seemed to appease the other man, though, because he took a step back and apologized. 

“In that case, if he truly doesn’t know then throw him in a cell somewhere upstairs. I’ll get a team together and we’ll go find Potter ourselves. The Dark Lord is growing impatient.” 

He didn’t say anything further before leading her around the other Death Eater, whose blood was now dripping down his arm. Forsythia shrank against Draco’s shoulder, willing herself not to breathe or think about it. Why had she not taken a potion before they left? 

Her bottom lip stung as her fangs slid down and pierced it. She braced herself but the mask didn’t shock her. The last thing she wanted was Draco thinking she was hurting herself with it. He must have been reading her mind again or maybe her stiffened posture tipped him off, but Draco swore softly and pulled her more forcefully into the maze of hallways. 

He squeezed her gently, and once they were around a few corners and away from everyone else, he turned so sharply she nearly fell into his chest, “Are you alright? I should have waited until you had a chance to feed before we left.” 

Forsythia couldn’t help but shiver against him, being so close to him now felt impossible; her ears were tuned to the sound of his heart so close to her cheek. “Hold on,” he breathed, reaching blindly until he threw open a door next to them and pulled her inside. Once it was closed, he told her to be quiet. 

Even with the light off she could see his bright expression, “Do you want me to..or can you bite and be okay?” he asked in a hushed whisper, tumbling over his words as he took her hand again. Absently, it seemed, he gave his wand a casual flick and cast a spell over the door. Not a silencing one, but something else she’d never encountered. It sounded like a locking charm, but stronger. Nobody would be able to enter. 

He was too tall to bite from where she was at, so she looked past him to the table in the middle of the room and nodded indicatively toward it. Once he was seated upon it, she stood next to him and sighed as she looked him over.

“I can..it might hurt though, if I bite,” she mused, whispering like he had. Whatever the bond was doing to him had him in a right state, and she almost felt bad for him being as nervous as he was. In the air, she could taste his usual scent along with that sweet note of apple. 

“Take your mask off.” 

His whisper wobbled with anxiety, and when she tried to dawdle with flicking her braid back over her shoulder, he reached up and slipped her mask off himself. It was strange - she lived with him, breathed in his scent all the time, and yet, the moment her mask was lifted away she was even more smothered in everything that was him. She heard him set it down on the table next to him and started to lean in to run her nose along his neck. Draco took her shoulders and pulled her back, “W-Wait, just a moment. I wanted to..well..,” he looked anxiously into her eyes. 

For a moment, Forsythia pretended they weren’t in the middle of a prison building run by Lord Voldemort. Instead, she imagined that they were back at school, in the dungeons or the common room maybe, and that there wasn’t a whole war going on outside from where they stood. They were allowed to be young, just for now. 

“Yes?” She asked, tentatively resting her hands against his chest. Draco locked his arms around her lower back and pulled until her body was pressed to his again and she was wedged between his thighs. 

She remembered how he’d touched her cheek, how he told her he was being overtly affectionate with her while they were alone. The memory of both things soothed any fear that tried to bubble up in her. 

There was a certain amount of nerves that made her shiver, but she knew deep down he wouldn’t hurt her or force her into something she didn’t want to do. If he was with her, and they were alone, she could relax. 

“I wanted to…” 

She didn’t need him to hear him say it, but he did anyway. 

“Some of this is the bond, but I.. _ I  _ want you to. After last night I..it’s not as bad as I thought it would be having you drink from me directly regularly. I just need you to know what’s me.” It was in his scent, too. It was the anxiety and the excitement and the sheer  _ need  _ on him that made her grab his chin in one hand, guide his head to the side, and bite as gently as she could just under where his collar would cover him. 

Despite his body being relaxed, now there was an extra layer of need in the way his hands fisted into the back of her cloak then pressed back down flat as if he was fighting to keep himself calm.

Instantly, she tasted the sweet apple, and from the way he held her so tightly between his thighs she guessed it was how he tasted when he was aroused. The thought made her shudder out a soft hum against him, and she did again when he smoothed his hand against her upper back. 

“Hush, Thia.” 

Even his voice was heavy from how turned on he seemed to be getting.

The pound of his heart and the warm scent of arousal on his blood left her no room to argue. As gently as she could manage, she pierced his skin again and then sighed weakly against him as his blood flowed steadily into her waiting mouth. It seemed that maybe it had hurt that time, at least a little, because he let out a shaky breath and tensed under her. 

“Sorry,” she whispered, clawing at the front of his shirt to pull him closer.

Her previous reservations flitted away from her. Draco wouldn’t hurt her, and she guessed it was an ‘ever again’ sort of situation. No, he’d given into their bond and sank into it, even. His fingers rubbed deft circles into her lower back where he continued to hold her, and she relaxed into him, too. It felt right to do this, and he kept encouraging her under his breath. 

-*-

Draco let her drink for so long that by the time they managed to separate themselves he had to summon a blood replenishing potion for himself before he was able to stand properly. 

He caught her around the waist when she turned to the door and swung her back around and into his chest. She was expecting him to be glassy eyed and wobbly, but instead she found his eyes boring into hers and his arms steady and tight, “You have blood on your lips.” 

A cool rush of dread went through her as she flicked her tongue out to clean it, a little worried that he was angry with her for taking so much from him, but Draco shook his head and reached down to brush his thumb over her bottom lip. Her entire body went hot, and it took another few minutes for her to be steady enough to stand on her own without his support. 

“We‘ll probably have time later tonight, if you’ll need more.” 

It sounded like he was offering her a bit more than just a hot meal. 

Forsythia didn’t bother stopping herself from nodding eagerly at the prospect. If they were alone, and had most of the night to utilize privately, then she knew it was only a matter of time before the bond would solidify. Once that happened, she had no idea what to expect when it came to either of their self control. 

As soon as they left the room, he went right back to his usual cold Death Eater General self, minus the fact that he kept her firmly at his side instead of behind him as he moved them back out into the main area of the interrogation floor. 

Draco swore thickly under his breath and yanked his left sleeve back. The tattoo moved under his skin, the snake undulating around the skull in a disturbing sort of way. “Downstairs. Now.” He barked at her. Forsythia allowed him to drag her across the room and down the stairs while practicing keeping her head down and her face blank. 

It was difficult, though, when the smell hit her. Even with the mask on, the sweet scent of decay had her eyes watering and her throat constricting. It only got worse as they reached the gloomy basement landing and then stepped into the room just to the left. Forsythia stifled a shudder. 

“Ah, Draco. Good, you brought it with you.” 

“My lord,” Draco said, bowing his head. 

Voldemort was standing in the middle of the room, eyes glowing in the gloom. 

If she focused, she picked up the tiniest prickle of fear in Draco’s scent. It almost slipped past her notice, seeing as he’d never been properly afraid in her presence before, but now that she’d latched onto it the scent burned like battery acid in her throat. 

“When I put you in charge of the Vampire division, Draco, I knew you were the correct choice. You have shown great loyalty, and you deserve loyalty in return from those who are under your command.” 

Forsythia froze. The previous night’s argument in the garden rushed over her like a cold douse of water. Draco said if he showed any sign of weakness or lack of discipline with her that she could be disposed of or worse. 

_ Stay calm _ . His voice drifted through her mind and it had to be a command because her body relaxed. 

“There were whispers of insubordination, Draco. What say you?” 

“Insubordination, my lord?” 

“Rosier informed me that there was a..disagreement in the interrogation room with Remus Lupin. Explain.” 

Imperceptibly, Draco shifted back towards her, shielding her. 

“She hadn’t fed and forgot her place. I reminded her of who’s in charge. That was the end of it.” 

“No, Draco, I don’t believe that  _ was  _ the end of it. Rosier’s Vampire was destroyed by Lupin’s blood and yours looks to be unharmed.” 

“Yes, my lord, I had her healed.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes, my lord.”

There was a long, uncomfortable pause in which Voldemort simply looked at Draco, his eyes narrowed into slits. 

“I have decided to supply you with a new Vampire. The female is too unpredictable. It will return to its cell. While it’s not loyal to you, it is very powerful. I am certain we can find another use for it. Or, maybe Rosier can whip it into shape. He seemed very willing to take the female over.” 

“Rosier, my lord?” 

Forsythia stopped listening. It was happening. She was losing him and it was entirely her fault. Had her back talk the previous day been worth it?  _ Good job _ , she thought aggressively to herself. 

She couldn’t feel, couldn’t think, as she watched Draco nod his head once, “I’ll have Pettigrew take her, then.” 

As if he were an elf summoned by his own name, the watery eyed man who had originally taken her to Draco’s rowhouse in the first place appeared. When he grabbed her arm she didn’t resist. It felt like her first time out of her cell again; she stumbled and couldn’t keep track of where her feet or the rest of her body was. There was a rushing in her ears, and she wondered if she’d faint from the nerves. 

The grief overtook her, as soon as she wasn’t in the same room as Draco, every single nerve in her body pulsed with pain despite physically being just fine. She wanted to scream, to throw herself away from the man yanking her along and then destroy him, bite him and tear swaths of his skin off his bones until he was nothing. The second that thought flitted through her mind the mask went off. It didn’t stop, the power increasing until she dropped. 

The man, Pettigrew, let her, even laughed when she was finally able to scream. Pure agony filled her, the pain from the mask and her grief combining until screaming didn’t provide any relief. Only once it lessened did she realize Pettigrew had been also using the cruciatus on her. When the curse ended, it felt like her muscles finally relaxed after being clenched too tightly. It ached horribly, and she didn’t think she’d be able to stand. 

“Stand up, vermin.” Pettigrew snapped at her, even going as far as kicking her when she didn’t move. Forsythia stayed still, waiting for him to get close again. If she couldn’t bite him she’d find a different way to defend herself. 

“Up!” He shouted, kicking again and then shuffling closer to kick harder. After the cruciatus and her returning grief it felt like nothing. Just one more step forward and she’d be able to grab him and snap his leg. As soon as his foot connected with her stomach again she forced her body to move. It was too slow, though, from the curse and her emotional state. Pettigrew snapped his wand at her and the cruciatus roared through her again. 

Next thing she knew, she was flat on her back in her old cell. It was silent around her and pitch dark. The only reason she knew the cell had been hers was because of the hint of her residual scent that still hung in the corner she’d always stuffed herself into. Miserably, she pushed herself to crawl on her belly over to it and curled up as tightly as she could there, her face pressing uncomfortably into the stone. Her cheeks were wet. 

Days must have passed though the darkness never ended. She couldn’t bring herself to get up or look around or call out to see if anyone was locked up in the same room. Her old habit of shocking herself came back, and Forsythia forced it to go off every few hours. Like last time, it helped her keep herself alert. Plus, if she wasn’t ever going to see Draco again then there would be nobody to tell her off for doing it or stop her. She felt like a caged animal taking out its stress and lack of stimulation on itself. Maybe that’s exactly what she was. 

Sometimes she cried, other times she tried to burn holes into the stone with her eyes. What she would give to have her wand. Mainly, apart from the crying and the glaring, she did everything to keep herself from thinking of  _ him _ . 

When her father trained his hounds, he’d reward good behavior and punish bad behavior. Seeing as Forsythia felt more animal than human, she did the same to herself. If she did think of  _ him _ , she shocked herself. The only problem was that there was nothing to reward herself with. Very quickly, it seemed, the mask was more than willing to punish her for anything she wanted if she associated it hard enough with biting. 

-*-

More days passed. As she descended into the familiar half-starved, self abused delirium, all she saw was his face: sharp and sneering at her in the darkness. The shocks that accompanied it were brutal and left her skin burning long after they stopped. At first seeing him made her swell with rage, and she physically threw her fists out at the hallucination. As her thirst grew, though, her anger faded and all she could feel was a deep sense of desperation for him. Without any anger, any real motive behind the association, the shocks eventually faded, too. There was no escape.

Forsythia started losing time, one minute she’d be looking at the wall and the next she’d be flat on her back or curled into the opposite corner. The next time her eyes opened her cheeks were damp with tears and she was screaming  _ his  _ name against the bars. She forced herself to cling to it, ignoring the intense burn on her palms from the silver. Her throat tore while she screamed, but she didn’t care. Despite doing her very best to stop, all she could do was wail for him to come get her. 

-*-

She begged, shrieking as the mask shocked her seemingly for no reason. It seemed to have maxed itself out, and she barely had any energy left to do more than whimper as she finally pushed herself back from the bars.  _ He  _ wasn’t coming.  _ He  _ wouldn’t save her. 

-*-

There was a shimmer of whispers around her, softly calling to her, begging her to calm herself. 

“Forsythia, please, you’re going to hurt yourself.” 

“Leave her to it, we’ll be leathered if they find us talking again!” 

“They’re doing it on purpose!” 

“Yeah, no shit, David. Will you shut it, somebody’s coming!” 

Silence again. Forsythia released the bars and stumbled half a step back from them, the pain from her Nottingham wounds so intense it cut through everything else. She held her hands against her chest and counted the footsteps of whoever was approaching, praying that it was him at last. 

“Well, now that you’ve finally shut up.” 

The voice made her skitter away from the bars and back into her corner. _ Not Draco, dangerous. _ The room lit up and she hissed loudly, eyes burning and watering at the sudden brightness. A combination of fury and dread filled her to the brim; she was so angry she was afraid of herself. What would happen if she killed somebody in a blind rage? 

“Draco said you were aggressive, but to me you just look like a helpless little girl.” 

She squinted, barely able to focus on the man standing before her; standing in the same place  _ he  _ had stood when they’d first met. The man had said his name, too, and her rage only increased. It must be easy, calling her helpless while standing with enchanted silver bars between them, while she was caged. Suddenly, she cared very little about what would happen if she killed him. 

Of course, presently she was too weak. She’d have to wait it out, to have the perfect opportunity to not be interrupted while she did it. Something in her, something dark told her to be patient and her moment would come. 

She knew it was Rosier without having to ask, not that she wanted to say a single word to the man. No, she’d stay silent and not give him anything. 

He was shorter than Draco by several inches, though much older and heavily muscled. His face was lined from years of scowling, and his sandy hair was streaked with gray. When she glared at him, he sneered, showing off several gold teeth. 

“Get up. We have a job.”

She didn’t move. 

“ _ Get up.”  _

_ Do as he says. _

A cry shot out of her and she forced herself up. There was no way Draco’s voice was in her head. Maybe she was hallucinating again. That had to be it, just another hallucination. It wasn’t real, it was just a coping mechanism. 

Her fear increased, which did nothing to help her stay calm enough to be patient. How was he still in her head?

She’d somehow not been mentally present while she left the cell and had heavy chains looped around each wrist. The Death Eater towed her along behind him up to the third floor. The sight of his hair and the strip of his neck she could see peaking out where between his collar and his cloak brought her rage back up to the surface. Didn’t he know to not turn his back on a predator? Her boots caught on the stone and she fell, unable to catch herself with her bound hands. So much for being a predator. 

The fall didn’t really hurt too badly. Her knee felt a little busted but that would heal. Rosier didn’t stop, though. He sneered over his shoulder and dragged her across the floor. Each time she tried to get up, he only yanked harder so she fell again. The chains bit into her wrists, and she swore thickly as the skin under them turned red and raw. 

_ Don’t fight him.  _

Forsythia felt her body go slack, and apparently this was what he’d been waiting for because he finally stopped them half-way across the empty room. Her cheek felt abraded from where it had scraped against the floor. He grabbed her by her hair and ripped her head up, her answering hiss doing nothing to scare him. 

“Exactly as I thought. A pathetic girl.” 

There was something in his eyes, something predatory and heated like he genuinely was enjoying abusing her. He threw her head back down and she did nothing to stop it from slamming into the floor. Her cheek cracked in a few places, then slowly cemented itself back together as he hauled her to her feet by her bound hands. One of her shoulders dislocated in the process and she let it hang unsettlingly at her side. There was no use in crying because of the pain; nobody would wipe her tears. The mask shocked her when she pictured wrapping the chains around his neck and strangling him, and he didn’t turn to look at her when she cried out as pain ripped through her face.

-*-

Forsythia blinked and when she opened her eyes they were in an interrogation room. There was a young man before her, with a shock of red hair and black horn rimmed glasses. She blinked again and she was on her hands and knees outside the room, blood dripping out of her mouth and down her chin while Rosier aimed a swift kick at her head. She had been gasping for air in between harsh rolling spasms in her stomach.

She let herself fall, didn’t bother holding in her grunt of pain. Her cheek hadn’t finished healing itself before it shattered again. Had she killed that man in the room? Something about him seemed familiar, like she should know him. It made her stomach clench like she was about to be sick again, and all she could do was lay with her throbbing face against the cool stone floor. 

-*-

The pain snapped her back to her senses and she was in the cell again. Something bitter was in her mouth, and she immediately forced herself to throw it up. She leaned back from the mess, panting and gasping for clean air that didn’t smell like murtlap essence and the blood from whoever she’d bitten. The blood in her mouth wasn’t the same as the man with the glasses. Had she bitten somebody else? When?

Somebody had tried to heal her, to feed her the essence. Did that mean she had internal wounds? 

It felt like her ribs were broken for sure, each breath she drew in made a disturbing cracking sound. Forsythia wondered if she could die from a punctured lung. She tried to cry out as the bones cemented themselves back together a few minutes later, but her throat was completely raw from her earlier screaming. 

Another day or so, she guessed, passed. A potion was set just inside the cell. She ignored it. 

When her anger flared up, she kicked the glass bottle back through the bars and only felt slightly better as she watched it explode against the wall outside. The mask shocked her twice for that, and she wondered if the rotten bastard Rosier had her set up with some kind of remote control in it. In case he did, she threw herself back down in the corner and pretended to behave. Reality started to slip, again, though, the longer she went without blood. 

There were times where she almost felt like she was asleep. She’d be awake, but everything felt like a dream, like nothing was real. Rosier would throw her into a room, she’d bite whoever it was sitting in the chair as many times as she wanted, and then he dragged her back out. It couldn’t be real. She lost count of how many faces, blurred and sometimes tear stained, ran through her mind. 

-*-

“Get up.” 

She didn’t need to force herself anymore. When he called, she’d go. The interrogation room was empty when they arrived. He made her undress, simply looking at her with that same predatory glare before he called her an ugly bitch and ‘commanded’ her to put her clothes back on. For some reason, even though she obeyed, she knew she didn’t have to, like the command wasn’t true. 

This, him ordering her to remove her clothes, happened twice more. Once before an interrogation and once after. The time before the interrogation, he’d come to fetch her like normal. Once in the room, though, he’d stood with his back against the door and his eyes roaming over her. There was a certain amount of entitlement in his face, but Forsythia did her best to pretend she was anywhere else. 

A flash of the rowhouse went through her mind, and the mask went off. A stab of hot pain shot across her face and seemed to reach down into her bones. 

She fell to her knees, holding in a scream, and caught herself on her hands before she hit the ground with her face. “Exactly as you should be, on your knees for me.” he’d snarled at her, laughing. He ordered her to get dressed without further comment. 

The third time he forced her to sit on her knees from the get go while he walked around her, apparently assessing every inch of her that he could see. 

“You know, the lads keep asking about you. Maybe they should be allowed to come see for themselves, shouldn’t they?” 

A shiver went up her spine, and her stomach squeezed anxiously. Surely this was his way of trying to keep her intimidated by him. 

“Should we pass you around to each of them? Let them do as they please?” 

She was able to keep her fear at bay until he dragged his hand over her bare shoulder. The mask shocked her before she could even think of what to do to him for thinking he was allowed to touch her, and her fear blazed into full blown fury. He beat her so badly she couldn’t stand to leave when he ordered her to. Furious, he dragged her back downstairs by her hair. 

Days later, he commanded her again. This was what finally did it. She’d been waiting for an opportunity, unable to properly plan due to being half-crazed. Instead, she let the more animal side of her take over fully and was on high alert for any sign of weakness from Rosier. It was difficult, though, due to her being desperately thirsty.

There was no way she’d start a bond with him, though. Her mind was definitively set on the other human being her only one. She couldn’t think of his name anymore without breaking down, so she didn’t. So, instead of gaining Rosier’s trust in that way, Forsythia did everything to pretend she was under his control until the perfect moment struck. He was happier when she obeyed him.

However, he’d been roughing her up all the while, too, even outside of their bizarre private meetings. After interrogations he’d knock her around whether she’d done well or not. It seemed he was not picky about when to assault her.

If she could bruise, she knew she’d be covered, not to mention all the broken bones. She was weak, constantly in a state of healing. The weeks had passed and she had to conserve her energy at every opportunity. Some days she wouldn’t move a single muscle. This was now the only way to escape. 

“It’s our one month anniversary. I think you owe me something for not chucking you out into the body pit.” His voice startled her. They were in another empty interrogation room and he was leaned back against the door; the telltale sign of what he was about to demand of her. Forsythia braced herself for more insults. 

What could he want from her, what did she even have to give? She was blindly obedient, at least from his perspective. Maybe he was going to try to make her feed from him directly **.** Almost sniggering out loud at the absurd thought, Forsythia locked her teeth together to remain silent. 

“Get naked.” 

She did. 

“Stand facing the wall.” 

She did.

“Bend over the table.” 

She paused. 

He hadn’t tried to command her, and even if he had she knew she wouldn’t do it. Perhaps her obedience act was truly that convincing to him, or maybe he was too arrogant to think he didn’t have the power to force her to do whatever he wanted. 

“ _ Bend over the table, now, useless bitch! _ ” 

Forsythia didn’t move, couldn’t. Something made her stay still. There was no hallucination telling her to save her skin and do what he said. There was only her silence and his angry breathing behind

her. 

Rosier grabbed the back of her neck and tried to force her down. There was no forethought. This was the weakness she’d been waiting for. Forsythia reached back and locked her hands around his wrist, using his momentum and his weight to flip him over the table and into the opposite wall. She heard a bone break, then he was spitting with rage as he loomed up from where he’d fallen, his wand raised but loose in his grip.

Something kicked to life inside her and Forsythia moved too quickly for him to see. She slammed her fist into his broken nose, the gush of blood fueling her own rage. As his head snapped to the left she threw her left fist harder than the first. Blood sprayed out from his nose and his mouth. 

Now that his head was moving in the other direction, she ducked down and punched straight up under his chin. The bone at the base of his skull dislocated itself and splintered from the force. He’d barely had time to take a breath before he was dead on the floor in a heap.

After not speaking a word for over a month, Forsythia leaned down and looked into his still open eyes, “Don’t call me a bitch.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **warning: a bit violent at the start**

Forsythia couldn’t stop, though, and decided to make an example of him. Whatever animal part of her that had taken over wasn’t giving up control anytime soon. She looped her chains around his ankles and yanked until he heads of his femurs separated from his hips with a disconcerting  _ pop _ , then she gave his knees and ankles the same treatment. 

By his hand, his wand had rolled to rest just out of reach. Feeling rather cruel, still, Forsythia reached down and took it, snapping it easily over her thigh and leaving the two halves on the table. 

She turned her attention back to him and looked into his bruised and bloody face. He looked like a swollen, beaten rag doll, and it was exactly what she wanted. A sick sense of pride bubbled up in her. 

She pulled her clothes back on and donned his cloak, rather pleased that it dragged behind her dramatically. Once the chains were wrapped securely around his ankles, she dragged his body out of the room and back towards the main lobby. 

Every few feet she stopped and listened, holding her breath and waiting to hear if somebody was coming. There wasn’t anyone. That sick pride filled her again. 

It was empty, the lobby, but she didn’t mind waiting. She took him to the middle of the room and sat sideways on his chest like he was a bench, one hand resting against his floppy neck and the other on top of her knee; casual. The room filled with the scent of his blood, and she hoped wherever the other vampires were they could smell it. She wanted them, all of them, to know that she was not some pathetic little girl; she was dangerous, and she wasn’t afraid to kill anyone who treated her badly. 

It didn’t occur to her what would happen once she was found, nor that she would probably be killed on sight. Sitting on him in the still empty lobby left her with some time to think. Death Eaters certainly seemed like the ‘shoot first ask questions later’ type, so she tried to come to terms with her own death there, sitting on a dead man. Ironic, she thought to herself with a humorless snort. 

If she died, and they were quick about it, she could accept that. The thing that was starting to make her knees knock together, though, was if they tortured her. She knew firsthand what they were capable of, what cruelties they were capable of. 

A darker, more intense thought popped into her head: what if  _ he _ found her. Would he turn her in? Finish her himself? Or, would he surprise her and take her back home? Forsythia scowled at herself; she’d just murdered a grown, powerful man and now she was daydreaming about being rescued by a knight in shining armor. 

Forsythia reminded herself coolly that she was not a damsel in distress.

-*-

After a couple of hours passed, and Forsythia was fully ready to die, a group of masked Death Eaters apparated into the room. Forsythia locked eyes with the tallest in their group. She knew it was  _ him _ , the inviting scent of rain and the forest calling to her as if he’d said her name out loud. Maybe he had come to her rescue afterall. 

They had three other Vampires with them, all of whom dropped their heads once they met her eyes. Submission. That pleased her greatly. 

To her extreme displeasure, the mask gave a warning shock and she jerked backward, hissing. It seemed that her noise broke the spell that the Death Eaters were under because then all at once it was very loud in the lobby. They all had their wands out, and Forsythia wondered who would curse her first. 

Somebody next to  _ him _ tripped over themselves trying to back away at the sight of her. Another screamed in rage. Forsythia felt like she might faint being so full of him after being in the dark for so long. Dying wouldn’t be too horrible if he was the last thing she’d see. 

“I-It killed Rosier!” 

“Kill it!” 

“Set it on fire!” 

“ _ Enough! _ ” The high, cold voice made them all turn. Lord Voldemort appeared on the other side of the room. Forsythia had never seen him in the light before, and he looked even more terrifying than he did in the dark. The red eyes seemed to glow, his skin was almost transparent. 

Despite this, she still felt that she was the most horrifying creature in the room. 

“Take it back to its cell. I will deal with it later.” 

A strong hand closed around her bicep and tried to pull her to her feet, but she yanked them right back. The chains banged together with her sudden movement, clanging, then vanished from her wrists. She closed her eyes as the cruciatus curse came, and she swore as the darkness and excruciating pain closed in that she was screaming for Draco again. 

-*-

Forsythia wondered for a long time if she was dead, or if she’d finally gone fully mad and was stuck in her own head while her body lay motionless on the ground. All around her, there were whispers and hushed voices. Sometimes, she swore she heard  _ him _ but wrote it off as the hallucinations again. 

She opened her eyes to darkness, the same darkness she saw when she closed them. So, she kept them closed. Every once in a while she caught a whisper loud enough to understand. One said, “Heard she snapped his neck and painted her face with his blood. Overkill, but still a power move.” 

Another, “He’ll have to give her back to that Malfoy boy, now. Nobody else is lining up to have her and they’re not going to risk any of the others in the guard.” 

The other Vampires were whispering about her. She only knew because they talked after the bars of cells were closed. There was something distinct about their voices, too, more refined than humans. With a jolt of guilt, she realized she’d forgotten about them. 

Their pieces of gossip stuck with her. Word had travelled fast to the others it seemed. What had they meant, though, that Draco would have her back? As far as she was concerned he’d never truly existed in the first place. 

Splitting, blinding pain filled her every time she tried to move, so she did so as little as possible. If Rosier had been right about their so-called anniversary, she hadn’t had proper blood in a month, the longest she’d ever gone. Plus, however long she’d been going in and out of consciousness for since she killed him. Her body was too weak from the lack of blood to heal, so she lay in agony. 

Slowly, the pain lessened. Days must be passing, she thought to herself. It didn’t feel like her wounds were healing, but rather that she was becoming numb to it. Maybe she  _ was _ finally dying. That thought was comforting, and she waited for the pain to stop. 

-*-

Soft, warm light burned orange against her eyelids. Forsythia didn’t have the strength to open them, and instead tried to smell what was going on. There was nothing, so she continued basking in the parts of her body that were numb now. At least those parts offered some semblance of comfort. 

-*-

“ _ I heard she’s dead in there.”  _

_ “Don’t smell very dead.”  _

_ “What did they expect trying to put her with a new human? Especially a man.”  _

_ “They expected her to go quietly. Wankers.”  _

_ “She’s the only female I’ve ever seen.”  _

_ “I’ve seen a few, but she’s by far the youngest.”  _

_ “What do you fink made her snap?”  _

_ “Dunno. Could ‘ave been anything.”  _

_ “Fink if she lives she’ll be proper mental over us not all protectin’ ‘er?”  _

_ “Forsythia Black would rather die than be protected by any of us. She’s made that clear enough.”  _

The conversation around her grew in shimmering whispers she knew humans, if there were any around, wouldn’t be able to hear; the tone was too low. 

_ “You don’t think he..?”  _

_ “Don’t even joke about tha’. If she ain’t dead then she might as well be if tha’s what ‘appened.”  _

_ “I almost feel sorry for her.”  _

_ “Almost?”  _

_ “Leave the bird alone! Can’t you smell her fear?”  _

Was she afraid? Forsythia couldn’t feel many complex emotions anymore; she was flat for the most part. There was not much else other than the neutrality of dying. 

_ “I thought tha’ was you. Which one is she?”  _

_ “The outdoor smell. Like trees.”  _

_ “No, that's Malfoy's lad. He lurks over at the end. He’s the anxious one.”  _

_ “Because of ‘er?”  _

_ “How should I know? Probably. You saw how badly they beat her.”  _

_ “Will the three of you shut up! We’re going to catch a nasty beating if they see us talking!”  _

The last voice, Jonathan Francis-Curt, was a deep snarl that made her try to curl in defense. Her muscles and bones screamed and so did she. 

As soon as  _ his  _ name ripped itself from her, there was a harsh, metallic grating sound on her left. She tried to move away from it, to make herself as small as possible, but it hurt too badly and only made her scream for him louder. 

Something soft was wrapped around her and, despite her weak attempts at struggling, tucked under her. 

“You need to stay still, you’re very broken.” 

Her eyes flew open at the sound of his voice. 

“Bloody hell,” he moved back from her at the sight of her eyes, which were probably completely black, sounding genuinely scared. She didn’t care. His face was right there, hair fallen into his eyes, kneeling next to her looking petrified. As their gazes met again, an intense burst of joy and fear wrestled through her. The mask went off and she screamed again. 

Draco removed it, tossing it away and then shaking his hand like it stung him, too. “Oh my god, Thia.” The horror in his voice did nothing to curb her freely flowing tears, which burned terribly once they reached certain points on her cheeks. 

“I need to get you to a healer.” 

When he levitated her up onto a stretcher he’d summoned she passed out. The pain was too much. The joy was too much. The fear was too much.

Her body couldn’t physically handle it. She was too weak, too tortured to be able to process it, so she shut down. 

“ _ By far the worst condition I’ve ever seen.”  _

_ “You can fix her though, can’t you?”  _

_ “Of course I can fix her physically. The mental healing she’ll need won’t be easy.” _

_ “Fix her and I’ll see to it you get your children back.”  _

A pause. Then, 

_ “Yes, sir.”  _

-*-

The slow burning of her muscles repairing themselves woke her up. She could lift her head, turn it side to side, even shift her legs under her blankets. 

Forsythia froze. 

She didn’t have blankets in her cell. 

She cracked her eyes open. The rush of familiarity made tears fill her eyes. She was in her bedroom in the rowhouse, the hangings around her bed pulled lazily shut and the canopy above dark and safe. Her breathing shuddered harshly in her chest.

“Are you actually awake this time?” 

As if pulled by an invisible string, she looked frantically around to find Draco leaned against the bottom right post of her bed, his legs thrown out casually in front of him. They were close enough to touch if she moved her leg or if he tipped his foot to the side. He was wearing muggle clothes: a green jumper and black trousers. His socks were white. A book lay propped open in his lap and his wand rested between the pages.

A deep, stabbing pain shot through her chest at the sight of him. She had to be dead, there was no other way. Rosier had killed her and this was some strange hallucination as she died. The pain, though, was so clear. Surely there wasn’t any pain after death? 

Several seconds passed, and she decided blearily that she wasn’t dead even though she wasn’t fully convinced. How could she feel the things so plainly around her if she was? 

Unable to speak, Forsythia nodded weakly. She was glad to be propped up some on what felt like a mountain of pillows. At least from that angle she could see him without having to lift her head too much. And she wasn’t going to take her eyes off of him for as long as possible. 

“You nearly got yourself killed, did you know that?” 

She nodded.

“Was that the goal?” 

She shook her head, tears blurring her vision entirely. It felt so good, so right, to be near him again. Like all the pain she’d endured was erased. 

“You could have fooled me. How do you feel? Can you speak?” 

She winced as pain shot through her upper body. All she’d tried to do was shrug. Once she could see straight again, she shook her head weakly, careful not to move too much. 

“Are you thirsty?” 

If she’d been able she probably would have launched herself at him to feed. The only thing that happened, though, was that her fangs slid down and pricked painfully into her lower lip. Her tears spilled over finally, leaving cool tracks down her face. 

Draco watched them fall, though he didn’t move any closer to her. It took her a moment to read his expression, but then it clicked. He was being cautious of her. 

The pain in her chest stung brighter and more tears spilled over. He was afraid of her. Her fingers shook under the blankets. 

“I thought so. The healer told me specifically  _ not  _ to let you feed from me directly until you’re rehabilitated, but I do still trust you. Unless you plan on giving me the same treatment you gave Rosier?” 

She shook her head. 

“That’s promising.” said Draco, his eyes warming slightly. He asked if she would be okay if he was closer and she nodded. She had to prove she wouldn’t hurt him; both to herself and to him alike. 

Enraptured, she watched as he slid over to lounge at her side. With her confirmation that she wasn’t going to kill him, he seemed so relaxed. Maybe he was trying to comfort her by showing his confidence in her? Trying to comprehend every little thing made her chest ache again. She was too weak for anything too complex still. 

Casual as ever, he drew his wand and sliced a neat line into the muscle on his palm. The smell barely had time to reach her before he pressed his hand against her mouth. 

His blood smeared onto her lips and then her tongue. Deep in her mind a jolt went off like a warning alarm and she jerked back from him, shaking and waiting for a shock. Something on her cheek tingled warningly. 

“It’s alright. Hey, look at me.” Terrified, she met his eyes again. Draco, his hand still in front of her face, took her cheek and pressed the oozing cut to her lips again. “Nobody’s going to hurt you. It’s okay to drink from me, just go slow.” 

He was speaking to her like she was a scared animal. _ I guess I am _ , she thought glumly. Her vision blurred again and this time he thumbed the tears away before they went very far. 

Tentatively, and only because he kept stroking her cheek so gently, Forsythia drank. 

He encouraged her, praised her, even, when she bit into him to get a better flow. She nearly jerked away from him again. The frenzy was starting to hook itself into her, but in her weakened state there wasn’t much it could do but sink her teeth in further to his palm.

“That’s it, it’s alright. I’ve got you, Thia.” 

It got a little easier the longer she did it, and each time she stopped because her anxiety surged he talked her back into drinking again.

-*-

“See? The healer was trying to tell me you’d lose your head but here you are, perfectly in control.” He sat back and closed both wounds with his wand several minutes later. What he didn’t know was that in her current state, she had lost control. Biting him was all she’d had the energy to do. She was too guilty and ashamed to tell him.

“It’s only because I’m weak.” 

Her voice sounded awful; hoarse and scratchy and misused. It felt better than it sounded, if that was possible. However bad it was, though, Draco looked rather pleased to hear it again. 

“How are you?” 

“About as bad as I probably look.” 

“Ah, so much better then?” 

She shrugged, and it didn’t hurt, “I thought I was dying.” 

“You were.” 

“Oh.” 

A very dark voice in her mind questioned why he hadn’t just let her. Wouldn’t both their lives be so much easier if he’d allowed her to rot in the cell? 

“The Dark Lord didn’t take too kindly to you killing one of his long time supporters.” 

Snapped back from her thoughts, Forsythia pretended she was pleased, “Good. I wanted to hurt him.” 

“No, _ you _ wanted to show him that  _ I’m _ the only one you’ll work for.” 

“I’m good at getting what I want in the end.” 

“You dragged a two hundred and fifty pound dead man through a prison without being stopped and weren’t found for hours. Was that just a plan to somehow get back to me or did you attack him because of something else?” 

Her body went cold. What was she supposed to tell him? 

“Were the rumors true? Did he…?” 

Forsythia shuddered, feeling suddenly too full and too weak. How was she supposed to tell him? She figured he wouldn’t be angry with her, but would he even care that she’d almost been seriously hurt? The answer to that question wasn’t one she wanted to know, was too weak still to handle, so she let her eyelids flutter like she was losing consciousness again.

“Thia? Tell me what he did.” 

When she still didn’t answer he tried again. 

“Did he hurt you?” 

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Rosier  _ had  _ hurt her, and Draco wasn’t very specific, though she could guess what he meant. What he was asking, though, she’d put a stop to before he’d been able to do it. 

_ Can you show me?  _

His voice in her head made her jump, and he apologized out loud quickly before taking her hand between both of his and pleading silently with her to tell him what had led to Rosier’s death. He looked so upset, so terrified. What was he afraid of? It was already over. 

“Can I rest first?” Her throat ached, and she was genuinely growing very tired, at least of talking, that is. Despite how her body thrummed with pleasure being so near him, she felt rather overwhelmed at their proximity. After all, it had been a long time since she’d been so close to anyone. 

He looked disappointed, but nodded anyways, “Of course. Do you want me to stay with you?” From his tone, she knew he wouldn’t give her an awful long time before he asked about it again. 

Did she want him to stay with her? It felt like the night after Professor Lupin’s interrogation all over again. The want was there, but so was the new fear she’d grown to associate with him. She knew she wouldn’t be shocked, but something in her mind didn’t feel quite right; like the mask still had power over her despite being nowhere in sight. 

Finally, after making him wait several minutes, she took a breath that was full of only him and decided he’d be allowed to stay with her. It was still overwhelming, like a prickling under her skin, but they’d lost a lot of time and if she was still planning on escaping with him she’d need their bond to get back on track. 

“Y-Yeah, alright,” she said, leaning her head back against the pillows and letting her eyes close. Now that she had some of his blood she did feel a little more comfortable as her body absorbed it. After going so long without it, though, she knew she’d still be set back for a while. With it, though, she was able to swallow down some of her fear. The mask was off of her so she didn’t need to worry about getting a shock. There was still a tingle across her cheek when she thought of it, though. 

Maybe the mask did still have power over her in some way. When she thought of him, it felt like the tiniest shock of electricity went across her cheek, and she backed off from it immediately, wanting anything to distract her from her own wandering mind. It was easier said than done, and after only a few minutes of silence, she broke it. 

“Can you catch me up on what’s gone on since I’ve been, er, incapacitated?” 

Draco had since moved back to where he’d been sitting previously against the post and settled in. His foot touched her thigh this time, though it seemed unintentional. She wondered if having the wood pressing into his spine was comfortable. 

“You’ve been under Rosier for about a month and a half. When the transfer was made, I forged the documents so he wouldn’t actually have control over you. I’ve been away looking for Potter like _ we _ , you and I, were supposed to be doing together. Camping alone in the woods was nice for a little while until you started screaming for me. 

“It felt like you were shouting right in my ear even though I was miles away, so I suspect our bond had something to do with it. I had to keep my distance but once I saw the state you were in I went to the Dark Lord to express my concern for Rosier’s lack of respect for the contract. He wasn’t convinced of anything until Rosier went and complained that you wouldn’t have any potions. 

“Once the Dark lord realized you weren’t feeding, he grew weary. You’d never done that with me, and neither had any of the other Vampires, and he wondered if transferring you was the right decision. He was concerned that you’d grown too powerful, too hateful, to be controlled. Now that Rosier is dead, his concern has only grown and you’ve been sent back to me since nobody else will risk their life in an attempt to tame you.” 

Anger burned in her chest, “I’m not an animal that needs taming,” she snapped, glowering at him. Whatever paperwork he’d mentioned only added to her anger; what was she, a hound set up for adoption? 

Draco shrugged, “You should have seen yourself the night you killed him. I came back with some scouts after a short trip to London only to find you, crouched over him and covered in blood, in the middle of the interrogation floor. It was reminiscent of a quintaped attack.” 

Her anger burned into pride and she couldn’t help but let it show all over her face. Not looking at all amused himself, he said, “I figured that would make you pleased.” 

“So arrest me for being happy that my plan worked.” 

“Your  _ plan _ was treacherous at best and you put yourself in a position that almost led to your death.” 

He had her there. She still couldn’t tell him why she’d done it, so she changed the subject. He’d probably ask soon enough, anyway, and she needed to brace herself for that. 

“What happened after you grabbed me?” 

“I didn’t grab you, Rowle did. You looked like you were trying to break his arm and Macnair cursed you. It was..very difficult for me to stand by and watch.” 

She met his eyes and winced away almost as quickly as she’d looked up in the first place. He was in pain, remembering it.  _ Great _ , she thought,  _ now I feel guilty again _ . 

“You screamed for me during that. Do you remember?” 

She shook her head, though she did remember that part. Other things, like what happened after or in between then and now were murkier. The only clear thing she could remember from her time before that very moment was laying on her back in the cell in too much pain to move, though she didn’t know where exactly that memory lay within the timeline. 

“Once you were back in your cell I was allowed to see you. The Dark Lord was not willing to risk anyone else to keep watch over you, and was correct in thinking you would not try to attack me. He thought if I stayed near it might settle you down, bring you back to yourself and away from the murdering tyrant you’d been forced to become.

“You were unconscious for almost a week. I didn’t know exactly what condition you were in and I didn’t want to risk scaring you by going in to see you so soon after. Considering what you’d done, I also didn’t want to end up having to curse you if you attacked me. When you screamed, though...I couldn’t stop myself.” 

“Then what?” her throat squeezed painfully, and she forced herself to ignore the fact that he was worried she could have hurt him. Would she, if given the chance then? The girl in the cell might have.

Whoever she’d been at that time seemed like a stranger; had  _ she  _ really been the one to kill a highly experienced Death Eater all on her own? Her cheek tingled, and she shook her head to rid her of the thoughts. She’d done what she had to do to survive. That was all. 

As if the memory of it was a piece of paper, it folded itself up until it was so small she couldn’t see it any longer. Then, it was gone. 

Her body relaxed back into the pillows, Draco’s warm affection for her settling in her instead.

Draco looked pained again, “I took you to the healer after seeing how bad off you were. You weren’t healing like you normally do and you were actually bleeding and broken in a few places which concerned me. I made a deal with the healer and he fixed your injuries.” 

“Physical and mental, right? In exchange for his kids.” 

It was better to separate herself from the emotions threatening to boil up. She’d been so injured he was in pain from remembering it. He’d been concerned for her, worried enough to strike a deal that could have possibly gotten him in a lot of trouble. 

Forsythia forced her voice to remain even, “You told him you’d trade them for healing me.” 

He looked stricken, “You heard that?” 

“Heard the other Vampires whispering, too.” 

“What?” 

“The others. They were talking about me, I think. Gossiping.” 

“They speak to each other?” 

“Jonathan Francis-Curt told them to shut up because he was worried you’d figure out they were.” 

He sat back, a look of profound realization on his face. 

“What?” 

“Theodore Nott’s Vampire warned him after you’d been transferred that you’d kill Rosier. He said he’d been warned by another. I didn’t fully believe it when Nott told me.” 

“Did you expect any different from me?” 

That made him smirk, “No. But I am still curious as to  _ why  _ you killed him?” 

She’d guessed that he would push that question as soon as he had another opportunity. With a sigh, she tried to remember as many details as she could. They were coming back, slowly. 

“He’d been having me strip in empty interrogation rooms. A couple times, I think, that happened. I thought he got off on telling me I was ugly, but the last time he had me get naked that wasn’t enough anymore.

“He told me to..to..,” her face screwed up in concentration as she tried to find the right words. What had he told her to do? There was a gap in her memory. She remembered getting naked and then nothing until she was dislocating all the joints in his legs.  _ Had  _ something really horrible happened? 

“Thia, you’re making yourself bleed.” 

She opened her eyes, unsure of when she’d closed them, to find her nails digging rather painfully into her palms. When she slowly opened her fists, her black blood was indeed oozing out of the little crescent moon shapes now embedded in her skin. 

Draco held his hand out for hers, then drew the tip of his wand over each palm, closing the little cuts and then scourgifying the blood away. 

“You don’t need to continue, I understand the gist.” 

“I don’t know what happened between him making me take my clothes off and waking up here.” 

So many memories were suddenly gone from her, though she wasn’t anxious over it. She felt lighter, more relaxed with them no longer weighing on her mind. 

“The forgetting is part of the mind treatment, I think. The healer said the memories would return once you were more stable.” 

Forsythia sighed. At least she didn’t have to force her emotions away; not remembering seemed better than knowing exactly what did happen. If it was something awful, then she hoped it wouldn’t ever return. She startled when Draco rested his hand on her foot over the duvet, “Don’t force it, just rest now, alright? I’ll stay right here. You’ll be safe.” 

He must have used the command charm because everything melted away and she relaxed under his touch. Of course she couldn’t sleep, but it was very comforting to listen to his heart and his breaths as she rested into the soft pillows and bed. For the first time in what felt like a really long time, Forsythia let her guard down. After all, he was right. If she was with him, she’d be safe. 

-*-

“Thia? I have a potion here if you’ll drink it.” He said what felt like hours later. His voice was soft, tone gentle. She could refuse if she wanted. Perhaps her was worried she would refuse it the same way she’d refused Rosier. 

Blindly, she held her hand out and took the potion bottle. Glad it was already unstoppered, she sipped on it. Draco encouraged her, reminding her to drink every few minutes until she tipped it back further and nothing more came out. 

He seemed rather happy with her; she could feel it radiating off of him like sunlight. When she opened her eyes, he was smirking affectionately. 

“That’s my girl.” 

His words sent very warm, excited shivers up her back and through her belly. “Can you come closer?” She asked, still bracing slightly when she thought of him. When no shock came, she relaxed again. 

“You’re sure?” 

“Please?” 

Draco slid down next to her again, though he kept a few respectful inches between them. Cautious still, he opened his hand face up and rested it close enough for her to take it if she wanted. Indeed, she wanted. His hand was warm and a further comfort as she laced their fingers together. Draco let out a short, relieved laugh but held her right back. 

“Rest, Thia. I promise I won’t leave.”

He glanced at her sideways, asking in a very small voice, “Do you remember doing this through the bars?”

“No.” She swore her heart stuttered to life. He’d held her hand?

“A few times. I promised you each time I wouldn’t let them take you away from me ever again.” 

Her stomach dipped, affection rushing through her until it was overwhelming; like looking at the sun. Draco looked somewhere between embarrassed and nostalgic, like the memory of doing so brought him a sweet sort of awkward joy. There was still darkness, though, just behind the happiness. He was pleased to have her back in his possession. 

Forsythia revelled in it. The way he looked at her was as if he saw and rejoiced in her value. It made her feel protected like no other person had ever been protected before. 

-*-

As he promised, he didn’t leave her side for more than a few minutes at a time. After a couple of days she could sit up on her own, and a couple more she could walk. 

“So, when do we go back to work?” She asked, sitting across from him in bed about a week later while she drank her third potion of the day. It was inevitable, and she wanted to be prepared. 

They’d worked her back up to regularly drinking, and she decided she never wanted to go without at least the potions ever again. Draco gave her a measured look from where he was lounging across the foot of her bed, head resting in his hand while his other sat between the pages of his book. 

“Soon, but not back to interrogating. We need to find Potter.” 

Thoroughly relieved, Forsythia nodded, “So we’re going camping?” 

“We’re going camping.” 

“Finally.” 

She breezed out of the bed and danced around the room pulling her trousers on. Draco had loaned her a very large hooded jumper that fit her more like a dress to lounge in, and when she started fighting to get the massive thing off he snapped at her to wait until he was out of the room. 

Once the door closed, Forsythia managed to get herself out of it and then into all of her own clothes. Hoping to be stealthy, she folded his hoodie and set it on the highest shelf in her wardrobe; maybe he’d forget he’d loaned it to her and she’d be allowed to keep it. 

“You’re sure you’re ready?” He asked once they both made it downstairs. She nodded, fixing her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. It wasn’t fitting quite right, but Draco batted her hands away to take over. He did some kind of fancy fold at her shoulder then pinned it in place with a shiny golden broach he’d taken from his pocket. 

She twisted to look down at where it glimmered. It was an odd shape, with one straight line and then two lines branching off from the top of it. “What’s this?” 

“Protection for you.  _ Algiz.”  _

“What did you call me?” 

He snorted at her, “It’s the rune for protection.”

There was a very awkward moment where Draco held her mask up to inspect, his eyes bright with fury as he looked it over. 

“I wish more than anything I didn’t have to ask you to wear this.” 

“It’s okay. I’ll be with you.” 

Her words made her own stomach swoop, and it seemed Draco felt the same based on his expression alone. Above all else, he looked completely enamored. 

Draco offered it to her, eyes down and posture soft. Submissive. Forsythia leaned down to rest her face into the dragonhide, her eyes locked on him. 

“Why do you do that?” she asked, waiting until he finally looked up before she looked away from him. She wanted him to know that she knew what his gesture meant without being too intense about it. Draco shrugged a shoulder, letting his hand fall away from the mask now that it was secured and in place. 

“Theo’s Vampire told him to tell me to do it. He said you’d accept me faster if I showed you I wasn't a threat. Well, that and the bond encourages me to.” 

Interesting. Forsythia started to ask more but Draco held his hand up, “You can ask me any questions you’d like tonight. For now, I need you to focus on staying calm and remembering how to act around the others. I need you to show them all that you’re no longer a threat. Can you do that for me?”

“You won’t leave me anywhere by myself?”

He gave her a sad smile, “No, Thia. You won’t leave my side ever again.” 

Draco took her arm after confirming again that she was sure she could do this, and apparated them back to Oak Grove. The weight of the mask made her nervous, and she forced herself to think of only one thing: getting through a visit at Oak Grove so she and Draco could have time alone together again. The mask didn’t give any warning when she thought of him now. He wasn’t a weapon she could use against herself any longer. 

In addition to making her nervous, it also was a little stifling. Before, there weren’t ever any issues breathing through it, or smelling through it, rather, but now it felt like it was closing in on her. The feeling of Draco’s hand warmed through her, and it helped curb the sense of claustrophobia before it got too out of control. 

He squeezed her arm as they came to rest on the wide stones of the third floor. The air around them shimmered with Vampire whispers but Forsythia forced herself not to listen. She needed to focus, to stay in control. 

It wasn’t hard to keep her head down; she didn’t want to see if there were still blood stains in the floor from her little stunt, and she didn’t want to see any of the others bowing their heads to her. 

Draco kept his hand firmly around her bicep and pulled her over to a secluded corner. It didn’t matter if he was trying to keep them away from the other Death Eaters on the floor, everyone else in the room gave them a wide berth as soon as whispered news of their arrival filled the room. 

She watched, intrigued as he carefully pressed his wand tip to the tattoo on his left forearm. His voice drifted through her head again, and he told her sharply to keep her eyes down. Forsythia swallowed down the urge to reach up and brush his hair from his eyes. She needed to keep it together. They weren’t alone now, and she couldn’t risk seeming insubordinate again. 

The tattoo turned impossibly black and then all around them rose seven Death Eaters. They grew out of the shadows on the floor and walls until they stood, masked and silent in front of Draco. Under their cloaks she could smell their hesitancy about her; they were worried she, like some kind of guard dog, would attack at a moment’s notice. 

“We’re going Potter hunting. We’ll leave from here in forty minutes. Get packed. Our instructions are clear-.” 

Forsythia kept her eyes down as he’d asked. There was a split second where one of the masked men in front of them shifted a little too closely to her. Blind panic shot through her, and in her haste, she twisted and grabbed onto Draco’s wrist. It was her first inclination; grab onto Draco because he would keep her safe. 

To her own surprise, Draco reached down and patted her hand, gently prying her fingers away from him as he continued speaking as if nothing was happening. She jerked to see the other man take a healthy step away from her, his eyes downcast. Submissive. 

Whether he knew what he was doing or not, she calmed. Draco had told her so many times already to keep her eyes down, to show she wasn’t a threat and that she was barely lucid enough to stay upright, but now, being surrounded by the men with seemingly no way out, she couldn’t bring herself to extinguish the burn of staying vigilant. None of them seemed to take notice of her strange behavior, and instead kept their focus on Draco. 

Forsythia knew she’d messed up, she just didn’t know what to expect once they were alone again. 

-*- 

The Death Eaters disappeared silently, and he reached up to pull her hood over her head. Draco grabbed her wrist and disapparated them as well. Once they landed in the back garden, he took her hand tightly in his own and pulled her inside and out of the sun. Relief flooded her as soon as she was in the dim sitting room tucked up in her chair. 

“You did..alright. You’ve got to be more careful and keep your head down more.” 

She raised an eyebrow at him, “What am I supposed to do when your men start pushing into my space? How am I supposed to react to that?” She hadn’t meant to snap, but what did he expect? 

Draco’s eyes narrowed, “I told you to keep your head down. All of the other Vampires have their eyes glazed over all the time. The only time you looked like that was-,” he cut himself off and let out a frustrated sigh. The end of his sentence hung silently:  _ when she’d been starving and shocking herself every few minutes, on the brink of death. _

“You need to act more out of it, loosen up and stumble along like you did when you were first assigned to me. Like you were when you were assigned to Rosier.” The name stung. 

“They’re acting like that because they’re not given a regular or complete feed, Draco. They’re starving, they’re weak. Are you going to start starving me, too?” 

She didn’t want to fight with him, or argue, even, but something in her was pushing her to. Would the bond force them to fight if it meant that they’d end up closer because of it? She ignored her own internal questions and glowered fiercely at him. 

His face went pale, and she knew that on some level he had to know that this would be coming eventually. What else had he expected mentioning the other Death Eater so flagrantly in addition to being so snappy with her? His expression made her pleased, though. It was sick. 

They simply stared at each other, Forsythia furious and Draco turning green. “I-I’m not..I can’t do that to you. I got frustrated and I didn’t think and I-..I won’t do any of that to you.” 

She’d forgotten somehow that he was her age, but seeing him look so sick made it painfully evident. They were both still just kids. Her anger with him extinguished. 

She believed him, though she waited until his color returned to normal to speak again. “I can try harder. There are some things I can’t do, though. I can’t keep my skin yellow and I can’t force my eyes to stay blacked out. I’ll look healthier the more I drink from you.” 

A hint of a prideful smile tugged at the corner of his lips but it disappeared quickly, “As long as you act more sickly I think it’ll help our cover.” 

“Our cover?” 

“Yes, our cover. I don’t think it’s safe for anyone to understand exactly how strong our bond is, and again how well taken care of you are. Too many questions will come up, too many complications. We’ll need to keep it quiet until..until…” 

Until what, neither of them seemed to be able to say. He did, however, reach behind her and pull her braid around. When she flinched back from him he paused, eyes wide as he recognized her fear. 

With steady, slow hands, he tied the end off with the black ribbon, pulling it tight at the end. A warm calm filled her and she sighed, finally softening after being tense after their short visit to Oak Grove and their very one sided row. She knew he wouldn’t hit her, and the ribbon helped solidify that fact. 

Draco swallowed hard and held his hand out to her again, “Let me do something else before we have to leave.” 

Forsythia raised an eyebrow at him but handed over the mask and allowed him to move in slightly closer to her. 

“Well?” She prompted, keeping her eyes pinned to his chest. 

He snorted at her, sneering playfully, “Always so impatient, you are. I have something for you, since we’ll be out in the wilderness for a little while.” 

Forsythia scowled, but didn’t look up. 

Draco grabbed hold of her chin and forced her to look up at him. It was startling, but she didn’t move away. 

“I guess if you don’t want it then I can just keep it for myself. Something tells me you’d very much like to have this back, though.” 

Forsythia yanked her face back out of his hand, glaring into his eyes as much as she could without standing up on her toes to be eye to eye with him. His sneer faded, and she saw apprehension darken his eyes as he looked down at her. 

Draco drew her hood up over her head, then called for Hisky who appeared with a pop just on their left. The elf didn’t look at all perturbed by how closely they were standing together. 

“The bags is ready for you, Master Draco. They is waiting by the back door!” She squeaked. 

Draco patted her head affectionately, “Thank you, Hisky. I’ll have Thia send her patronus when we’re on our way back, alright?” 

Forsythia felt her entire body go very, very cold. She watched, apart from herself, as the elf nodded and gave them another low bow before popping away. 

Her patronus? 

Draco’s hand felt like ice as he drew it up to touch her face, “Thia?” 

Her name on his lips sounded so inviting. If she just leaned up on her toes again she could kiss him, swallow her name and everything else he could ever say to her in that voice. That soft, velvety voice that made her want to swoon. The voice she knew he only used with her. 

“I don’t want you to be without it.” 

As if waking from a very strange dream, she lifted her eyes to meet his. “We’ll be out, sometimes on our own. Nobody other than myself and Hisky will know you have it.” 

She nodded weakly, her expression openly pleading for him to say the words she knew he was holding back. Draco’s expression hardened, and carefully from his cloak he withdrew it. It seemed like time slowed as he did it, and then suddenly he was presenting it to her with a curious expression. 

Forsythia could have cried. Her wand looked to be in perfect condition, every inch of it. The only blemish on its smooth surface was a small, crescent moon shaped indent where her thumb nail dug into it when she concentrated too hard. 

Draco slowly held it closer to her, “I don’t want to see you without it, clear?” 

He’d known the whole time it was her wand. He’d kept it safe, hidden away for her until he could return it. Her breath caught. 

As soon as she took it from him, it transfigured into a very handsome blade, wickedly curved and inlaid with dark rubies on the hilt. “It’s a hell of a lot sharper than the original one you transfigured it into, and I got you a better holster for it.” He produced said holster for her from his cloak, as well, even leaned down and secured it around her thigh before watching her with a guarded expression as she slipped it into its sheath. 

“Thank you. For my wand and for my ribbon and for-for-..” she couldn’t bring herself to continue. He caught her chin and lifted her face back up to his, “Hush.” 

They stared at each other, Forsythia shivering when his eyes swept over her face and paused on her lips. Her stomach tensed. 

“We really should go.” 

They were the last to arrive back at Oak Grove, and Forsythia didn’t have to pretend to be shaky on her feet as he guided her to the circle of Death Eaters that were waiting for them. With her wand back in her possession she could feel her magic racing through her. 

If any of them noticed her shakiness, they didn’t say anything. In fact, the other Death Eaters seemed to be looking pointedly  _ away  _ from her. 

“We’re starting at Hatfield Forest. From there we’ll regroup and start searching for Potter. This goes without saying, but if you find him you are to bring him to me  _ alive  _ and  _ in one piece.  _ Is that clear?” 

The Death Eaters nodded their approval, and with that, Draco reached down to grip the front of her forearm. All around them Death Eaters were disapparating, and once they were the last ones left, he turned and then they were surrounded by darkness again. 

Once they landed in the forest, Draco had her stand silently at the top of the space he’d picked for their tent. While she tried to keep her head down, she caught sight of other vampires through the trees. They looked horrible - most of them too thin to do more than stand with their hands and ankles shackled together. It made her want to be sick. Was that how she’d looked too? 

Draco flicked his wand at one of the bags Hisky had done up for them, and from it grew a rather large structure. She supposed given the canvas walls that this was some kind of magic tent. The opportunity never arose in her previous life nor in her time as a vampire to see one up close. It wasn’t like her parents had been the camping type, and by extension, neither was she. 

It was remarkably tall, and reminded her of more of an actual house than a tent. There were windows on every side and a proper wooden door at the front that looked too heavy to be held up by canvas walls. 

He caught her eye as the tent fully expanded and secured itself into the ground, a little smirk on his face at her impressed expression. “Inside. Now.” 


	14. Chapter 14

“Can you do non-verbal spells?”

“I used to be really good at them, yeah.” 

“Can you start a fire?” 

“Yes, I think so.” 

“What about defensive spells?”

“I would need practice, probably.” 

“I suppose you don’t  _ really _ need spells when you can just bite and bring a grown man to their knees, hmm?”

“Oh, I don’t need a bite to do that.” 

Draco chuckled as he shook his head at her and muttered ‘cheeky’ under his breath. They were sprawled together on a very squishy couch in Draco’s tent in the middle of the dark wood, her mask forgotten on the kitchen table. Now alone, it felt quite natural to sit closer together.

He mentioned the last time the tent was used was years prior, at the Quidditch World Cup. “That was when I’d found out my father was still a Death Eater.” he’d said, his face falling then going blank as he recounted how that was the first time he’d genuinely believed he’d be killed if he didn’t follow in his father’s footsteps. 

“No, I suppose you don’t need a bite to do that.” 

She met his eyes and grinned. It was nice, sitting against his side and pretending there wasn’t a party of Death Eaters just through the woods in their own tents, some with their own Vampires. They, unlike she and Draco, were most likely not nearly snuggling together. She felt a pang of guilt, then reminded herself that she would have to forgive anything she did to stay alive. 

The sitting room was cozy, set to the left side of the tent while a full dining room and kitchen took up the right and back half of the room. It was an open floor plan, and Forsythia felt almost as comfortable in the tent as she did at the row house. There was also some kind of extension charm on the place because Draco had casually mentioned that there were enough rooms to house the whole party. 

Before they’d gotten so familiar with each other, Draco walked her through setting security and silencing spells all around in the tent. This had led them to sitting together once the work was done while Draco drilled her on what she still could do with her wand. The conversation quickly turned to flirting, though, and Forsythia had a feeling this would just be the way of it. 

“Although, I guess I did end up having to bite  _ you _ , didn’t I?” she asked, carefully touching the spot on his wrist he always cut open for her to drink from. He held very still for her, eyes slipping closed as his lips quirked up, “Yes, you did.” His affection for her rushed through her like a warm breath, and when she managed to gulp it down and sit back, he raised an eyebrow at her puzzled expression. 

“What?” he asked. 

Before they’d left, he promised she’d be allowed to ask any questions she wanted, and seeing as they’d been settled for at least fifteen minutes, she decided to start in. Beginning at the top of her list, she leaned back fondly into his shoulder where she'd been previously and turned to meet his eyes. 

“You can think things at me, or tell me something without saying anything out loud,” she prompted. 

There was a mischievous glint in his eyes when he said, “Yes, I can.” 

“How?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come across it when you were studying for your N.E.W.T.s. Legilimency is how. Plus the bond, I think. There’s a lot that remains unknown about them.” 

“But I can’t think things back at you with just the bond.” 

“Well, it’s not like you’ve been trained, is it?”

Part of her wanted to be annoyed with his haughty tone, but her curiosity got the better of her as she sat up off from where she was leaning against his shoulder eagerly, “Is it just your voice or can you do other things with it? Legilimency, I mean.” 

“I can look through your memories or block out my own, that’s the original purpose of using it. Severus taught me before I left school in case I would need to utilize it during interrogations. I do use it, sometimes, but it’s one skill The Dark Lord doesn’t need to know I possess. After all, if he knew I had certain memories hidden away he might start asking questions.”

“Which memories?”

“Memories about you. This,” he said, bumping his shoulder into hers, “will be hidden away. Some of them I actually remove and keep in a penseive at the rowhouse.” 

Forsythia snorted, “I’m glad to hear The Dark Lord hasn’t seen you sleep with me, then.” 

A playful smile brightened his face, though in the lamplight his scars turned into sharp, dangerous shadows, “No, he’s not seen your knickers, either.” 

Equally as playful, she gaped at him, “And when exactly did  _ you _ see my knickers then?” 

He cut her off with a soft chuckle, “I might have accidentally walked into the girls dormitory in our fifth year,” he mused. 

Forsythia jerked back from him, gaping even wider while fighting off a smile, “You rotten, despicable man. I can’t believe you,” she snarled, dissolving into a fit of giggles while he rolled his eyes at her.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose. To be honest, I’m glad it was you and not Millicent. Would much rather have your pink knickers in the back of my mind than whatever they wore.” 

He scooted back towards her to close the gap she’d made between their upper bodies, though when she scooted sideways again he smirked down at her, “Ah, should I not mention other girls? Does it make you jealous because of the bond?” 

“It does make me want to mark my territory just a little bit,” she admitted, grabbing onto his wrists when he started to reach up for her cheek. He glanced from where she held him back up to meet her eyes, “Do you really want to start a wrestling match? I thought since I’m so much larger than you that you wouldn’t risk it.” 

Forsythia started to move to flip them down onto the floor just to spite him when there was a sharp peel of a bell. One of their security charms was alerting them to a visitor. 

Draco moved quickly, summoning and pressing the mask back into her hands and then giving her a little push towards the only bedroom on the main floor. “Go.” 

The silencing charms Draco had her cast held, and she was certain that nobody outside the tent had been able to hear them talking. However, it sounded like Draco had allowed whoever had interrupted their time together to enter the tent. A deep, smooth voice joined with Draco’s as they spoke in what sounded like the kitchen. 

She strained to hear from where she was hiding behind the closed bedroom door. 

“-do whatever ya need us to. Did you send that thing out of your tent? Most of us have them tied up outside like dogs.” 

She bristled. 

“I did, there were some injuries that needed to be tended to.” 

“At least yours is alright to look at then, eh? The bond must make things more pleasant, ‘specially with her grabbin’ onto ya whenever the mood strikes.” 

Draco didn’t answer, but the other man kept talking as if his lack of response didn’t matter, “I’d kill to get a female. My one said females are really aggressive. Might make things a little more interestin’, if ya get what I mean. Then again, I guess Rosier got a little  _ too  _ interested didn’t he? 

“Is it true, though? Them being that aggressive I mean. Yours always looks so out of it when it’s with ya, I had a hard time believing it  _ did _ do Rosier in.”

“It’s true. Even before she’d had any of my blood she was attached to me. We all went to school together.” He responded vaguely. 

“Ah, ya were holding out on me, mate. Ya had previous history. No need to kiss and tell, of course, it just makes sense. She’s quite fit, though, I will say. Ever thought of passing her around?” 

Her entire body went cold. This had to be some kind of cruel, sick joke. 

She heard Draco snort, “No. She’d kill anybody else who tried to touch her. Hornstrand made a pass at her when we were interrogating him and I had to order her to leave. Nearly killed him before he gave us Shacklebolt’s name. The reason she killed Rosier was because he tried to bend her over an interrogation table.” 

The words forced the memory up and suddenly there was no gap. She could see herself getting undressed and when Rosier gave the command she threw him across the room and beat him to a bloody pulp. She clutched her hands together to keep them from shaking. 

The Death Eater clicked his tongue, “You’re a lucky man. Surely, though, you’ve..ya know..?” 

His question almost made her gag. It was always the same thing with men. 

“If you’re asking if I’ve had sex with the Vampire, then I’d advise you reread the contracts we took when we agreed to be part of this division,” Draco said, though he didn’t sound angry. 

“What The Dark Lord doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” the Death Eater joked, and she heard him start to move across the room towards the entrance, “Keep your secrets, Malfoy. Whatever goes on between ya and the Vamp is your business. All I mean is that, if ya haven’t, ya have more willpower than anyone else in this party would have in your position, clearly.

“You really won’t play cards with us? Spend a little time with your mates?” He asked. 

She heard Draco chuckle good naturedly, “I might come by later. Are we betting the usual?” 

“Yeah, that’s right. Don’t be a stranger,  _ sir _ .” More cackling, then finally silence. 

Reminded of when she’d had Professor Lupin’s blood in her, numbness spread through her. It took a moment for her to realize it was fear that was rooting her feet to the floor. When Draco told her that the other Vampires were being treated poorly, was  _ that  _ what he’d meant? Were there other women that  _ were _ being passed around? 

There couldn’t have been, the other Vampires at Oak Grove had said she was the only one they’d seen there. Surely the men wouldn’t have to deal with such advances? Thinking of if they did made her almost throw up. The level of cruelty shouldn’t have been a surprise, but it was. 

Forsythia waited until it was silent to let out the breath she’d been holding. 

“You can come out now, he’s gone.” 

She barely made it three steps before he had to throw his arm out to grab onto her as she swayed. “It’s okay, he’s gone, he’s gone,” he whispered, guiding her down to sit with him again. Forsythia allowed him to casually put his arm over her shoulders, to settle her against his side and comfort her as she shook with anger and an intense anxiety. 

-*-

Forsythia tipped her head up and met his eyes nervously, “M-Maybe I should..what do I do to..how do I be less..appetizing to them? I can’t-I don’t..I don’t know how to..how to to...” she felt like she was going to actually have a panic attack. 

“Shh, I won’t let anyone touch you. You’re mine, remember? My responsibility and  _ mine _ , Forsythia. You have my full permission to kill anyone who tries if I’m not here, but I swear, Thia, nobody will harm you. You’re the only fema-..woman we’ve got in the division and you’re mine, Thia. I won’t let anything happen to you.” 

“H-How can you be so sure?” she asked, fighting back tears now that her anger had faded some. It was a childish question, she knew that, but she needed him to comfort her. Part of her started screaming that she didn’t need him in that way, but the bond was taking over and she willingly let it. 

Draco met her eyes steadily, “I told you before that I’m done fighting the bond. Now that it’s...now that it’s changing me there isn’t anything in the world that would keep me from protecting you.” 

“Is that okay?”

He snorted, “Okay? Under other circumstances, say if we were kids at school still, no. It would be the worst thing that ever happened to me. Having you here in my arms and being unable to...anyway, here in this moment it’s fine. I can keep you safer than I could under other circumstances, so this is how it has to be. I  _ have _ to be okay with it, now, Thia, I’ve already made the decision to let this happen.” 

She sat back from him again, tears in her eyes, “I don’t want you to feel obligated.” 

Draco rolled his eyes, “Quit it with the dramatics. As  _ if  _ I would ever obligate myself to you for any other reason than my own selfish wants.” 

When she tried to question him further, Draco shook his head and refused to continue, instead snapping at her that it was getting late and she should have another potion since she hadn’t had one since they’d arrived. He watched her do it, eyes sliding from somewhere over her shoulder down to her lips and back again as she sipped. 

“Does it taste good?” he asked, raising his eyebrows when she snorted at him. 

“It’s okay, but it’s not like drinking right from you by any means.”

“No? How so?”

“Well, it’s not hot for one.” 

“Oh, so I’m hot now?”

Forsythia scoffed as she took another sip, “Temperature, but nice try.” 

“Thought I’d give it a try.” 

“Why are you being so flirty?”

“Ah, come on. I can’t start being proper nice to you yet?”

“It’s just weird. I’m not used to it.” 

It was his turn to snort. “Right, because you’ve never properly looked at yourself or what?”

A stab of anxiety went through her, “Please don’t.” 

Draco looked up, his eyebrows pushed together and his mouth a hard line, “Don’t what? Flirt with you?” 

She nodded, finishing off the potion and sighing as the nearly stale taste of his blood made her wince. 

“Did Nott really get under your skin that badly? Or is this about, er, Rosier?” He said the name softer, less bluntly than he had last time. 

“Yes, both.” 

He blinked, surprised. Carefully, and slowly so as to not frighten her, she guessed, Draco reached forward and rested his hand on her shoulder, “Thia, I’m not going to pass you around to anybody or whatever he said. I’m also not going to make you do anything,  _ anything _ you don’t want to do. If you don’t want me being flirtatious with you I’ll stop. I..I thought you might like a little attention from me. Or at least that’s what the bond is pushing me to do, I think. Was I wrong?”

For a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. Part of her really did want his attention that way, craved it the same way she craved his blood, but another part was horrified of what would happen if she allowed him to be some semblance of normal with her. What even was normal when it came to romance now? 

Immediately, she imagined curling around him on the couch, her face pressed against his neck while he stroked her back or read to her. Dreamily, she wondered if he’d take her on dates or let her wear more of his clothes. A smaller, more desperate part of her wondered if he’d kiss her lazy and sweet and casual in passing. 

“You’re not wrong. I just..I’m not used to it. You’ll have to go slow with me. I’m really, really far out of practice.” 

“Never had a secret Vampire bloke with you, then?”

“No, I always kept to myself until now.”

“Were you happier alone?”

“No.” 

It slipped out before she could stop it. How was that even the truth? After everything, the interrogations and the muzzle and the cell, how was it that despite all of that, she was still happy sitting with him on his couch in the middle of the woods? 

A very smug smile spread across Draco’s face as he chuckled to himself, clearly very pleased with her answer. 

“I’m still..a little afraid of you, though,” she admitted, wincing when he jerked to look at her, serious once more. 

“Because I grabbed you?”

“That and you yell at me a lot.”

He blanched, “Ah. Well..I will, er, make an effort to yell less.” 

“Also because of..everything from before. Rosier was vicious-,”

“Please don’t, Thia. I understand that you’ve suffered a great deal. Don’t go reliving it just to try to explain how you’re feeling. I know it’s hard, but you can relax around me, now. I’m no longer distressed over our situation. In fact, I’m an all too willing participant.” 

Forsythia chewed her lower lip at his declaration, jumping sharply when the clock over the massive fireplace in front of them struck midnight. Had they really been talking for that long? Draco soothed her shoulder, his fingers pushing smooth circles into her muscle. If she was with him, she was safe. 

“You told him you were going to stop by for cards?” She prompted, her eyes locked on the clock. If she looked away from it she knew she’d lose her hold on her emotions. She didn’t want him to go, but it might be suspicious if he spent the entire night with her on his own. They might think the wrong thing, make an incorrect assumption. Which, in this instance would probably not be far from the actual truth. 

“I did. Want to come with me?” 

Her shoulders shook as she shuddered, “Do I have a choice?” 

“Of course. I can excuse your absence. But I think it would be good for you to show them you’re not afraid of them.” 

Her chest swelled with pride.  _ Of course  _ she wasn’t afraid of them. That was true, after all. She’d already killed one of them with her bare hands. All it took was a flicker of her eyes and Draco was grinning and standing, her mask zooming from where she’d dropped it in the bedroom into his hand. 

“Any objections to using protection?” He asked, eyes twinkling. Forsythia wrinkled her nose and snatched the mask from him before pressing it over her face. 

“I said no flirting.” 

He only shrugged before he took her arm and gently led her from the tent. Forsythia let him, stopped breathing and reminded herself who she was as they walked. She’d killed one of them, somebody who had supported Voldemort for a very long time. Draco would be with her. There was nothing to be afraid of. 

“Remember to keep your head down. Even though we’re technically working, we’re just with some mates from school. You’ll recognize most of them, I’m sure. Feel free to be a bit affectionate, if you’d like. I’ll be ignoring you for the most part, as difficult as that will be.” 

Forsythia stiffened, “Is it difficult?”

“You have no idea.”

Draco’s hand slipped down until he could lace their fingers together, and Forsythia tried to remember how to properly walk without clinging to him with her other hand as well. 

Amongst the trees, the other tents were pinpricks of warm light, like stars resting in the spaces between the dark trunks. Otherwise, the world around them was black. As they got nearer, thin bodies rose from the ground and out from the shadows. 

Vampires, all chained outside. Nott had been right, they looked like dogs. 

As they passed them, each Vampire bowed their heads to her. 

“Why do they do that?” Draco asked, jerking his head to indicate the man they’d just passed. Forsythia didn’t know him well enough to know his name but had seen him a couple of times at the pub. 

“I”m-,” 

“Forsythia Black is the youngest female in our coven. I believe you wizards would equate her to a Lady.” 

A different voice had cut her off. It took her half a second to recognize the deep Scottish accent.  _ Jonathan Francis-Curt.  _

He was taller than she expected him to be, even taller than Draco. His blue eyes glowed in the warmth of the tent he was next to as he regarded them with a blank expression. 

“A Lady?” Draco asked, his eyebrows pushed together as he looked between her and Jonathan, amused. Forsythia shrugged, uncomfortable, “I’m not  _ technically _ part of any coven-,” 

“You are part of  _ this  _ coven, Forsythia. The coven the Death Eaters have decided for us.” 

Draco stayed quiet while she turned to face Jonathan once more. He was in the same uniform she was in, except his cloak was emerald green. His dark hair was long enough to touch his shoulders, and was tucked behind one ear. He was handsome, like Axium. Like all Vampire men. 

She raised her chin, “Good to put a face to a name, Jonathan,  _ epulemur inimicorum nostrorum _ .” 

His face pinched, Jonathan responded instantly, “Yes, Forsythia,  _ oro est vero _ .” 

He bowed his head, eyes locked on the ground, and turned into a statue. Draco took that was their cue to get going, and led her along. It wasn’t until they’d stopped outside a tent very similar to Draco’s before he pulled her aside and rested his hand on her shoulder, “What was it you said to him?” 

“Nothing, stupid Vampire politics and old traditions.” She waved him off. 

“So, you’re a  _ Lady _ , hm?” 

“Drop it, Malfoy. It doesn’t mean anything. This is why I don’t hang around geezers.” 

He was smirking, though, his eyes bright with mischief, “Should I call you Lady Black, then? Just to keep proper?” 

“I said  _ drop it _ .” Forsythia nearly cried out when Draco dragged her forward closer to him, his hand splayed out over her lower back, “I’m just  _ teasing,  _ Thia. I’ll stop. Come now, we shouldn’t keep the lads waiting.” 

“Are you sure this is alright? I don’t..I don’t want to be a hassle.” 

“You seriously have no idea how you’re perceived, do you?” He asked, exasperated as he pulled her back around to the front of the tent and waved his wand at the door. 

She held her breath, squeezing in behind his shoulder anxiously. His fingers tightened on her forearm, and she felt him brush his thumb over her wrist once before the door pulled open and noise spilled out to them. 

The warm light lit the person who opened the door from behind, though Draco started tugging her inside before any introductions were made. Then again, she supposed this type of interaction didn’t warrant any introductions for her. She knew she’d have to endure being treated very much as subhuman for however long they stayed in Theodore Nott’s tent. 

The entire place stank of wine and cigars and firewhisky. Behind the mask, she wrinkled her nose and immediately dropped her eyes when she’d started to explore around her. All she’d gotten to see was a closed door before she stared down at her boots. 

“Malfoy! Was wondering when you’d show up!” A booming voice from ahead of them made her jump. She recognized Gregory Goyle’s voice and shuddered. It really was a boy’s night after all. 

“He’s brought his little pet along with him, lads! Finally we all get to have a proper look at her,” sneered somebody else. It took her a moment, as she hadn’t heard Marcus Flint’s voice in even longer, but she knew him, too.

“Down boys, down. You really think I’d let her stay at my tent  _ alone _ ? The propriety!” Draco called back jubilantly. He took them to a round table, the six other Death Eaters seated around it, and when he sat, he placed her hand on the back of his chair and put a sticking charm on her so she couldn’t remove her hand. 

“Fucks sake, Draco, how did you end up with the fitty?” 

A new voice, deep and drawling like Draco’s. Under the stench, she smelled him. Amber and plum. Hoping to just look curious, Forsythia flickered her eyes up to see who’d spoken. Blaise Zabini sat across from them, a deck of cards in his hand and a half-drunk wine glass in front of him. 

At his shoulder, was a Vampire. His thin frame loomed over Blaise and she guessed he had to be over six feet tall, possibly taller than even Draco. Her entire body went hot as he lifted his eyes, and she immediately looked down. There was the intense urge to look back at him, to see if she knew him or if he knew her. She couldn’t, not in front of everyone like this. That would be too public. If she wanted to know she’d have to wait until the moment presented itself. 

All she’d been able to see from her quick glance was a flash of brown hair and olive skin. Nobody came to mind, at least not right away. He’d been in all black just like she was, his hands behind his back. That human urge to hyperventilate tried to take over but Forsythia forced herself to become a statue. This was absolutely not the time to show any weakness. 

“It’s good to see you, Forsythia. How’s being undead treating you these days?” Blaise asked, giving her a charming, toothy grin. 

Before she could answer, there was a scoff to her left, “Are ya serious? Ya knew it was her?” The same voice that had visited their tent earlier demanded. 

Forsythia flickered her eyes to him next. Theodore Nott had grown exactly three inches since she’d seen him last, and that was the only thing that had changed about him. His hair was still dark, still slightly curled at the ends. His green eyes were pinned to Blaise.

“ _ Obviously  _ I knew it was her, Nott, I was there when we sntached her up.” 

“Are we playing or should I take her home? Clearly she’s a distraction.” 

The room quieted after Draco spoke, but she could hear the playful smirk in his voice, and then the boys were all laughing. The Vampire on Blaise’s left startled and shifted between his feet. Forsythia could hear the laces of his boots creak in time with his nervous steps. 

She held herself tighter. There wasn’t anything to be afraid of; Draco was right there in front of her, shielding her and keeping a handle on the men around them. It would just be a little while before they could go back to his tent and relax again. 

With that in mind, her shoulders rounded forward and she let out a slow, long exhale. 

“She  _ is  _ nice to look at, though, isn’t she?” 

All the men around the table agreed, though they were a bit more soft spoken, like they didn’t want to say too much in front of Draco. 

His words made her breath stutter, but she kept her eyes pinned to the floor. He was just playing a part, just putting on an act so nobody got suspicious. That had to be it. 

She came to the conclusion that it wasn’t that he had only two different personalities, he had three, so far. One for when they were alone, one for when they were at Oak Grove, and now one for when they were around his friends. She stiffened. Not just friends, though, other Death Eaters. 

Forsythia rolled her shoulders anxiously and kept her mouth shut. Draco had made it very clear that she wasn’t supposed to treat him exactly the same way she did when they were alone as when they were around other Death Eaters, so she pretended she wasn’t there. 

Sure, he’d said she could be affectionate to some degree, but it felt too risky. After all, she didn’t even know what that meant. Was she affectionate towards him when they were alone? Maybe just a little bit, but certainly it wasn’t anything she’d do around his friends. 

She focused instead on how his chair felt under her hand. It was wood, slightly rough to the touch, and cool. For some reason, she almost expected it to warm the longer she held it, but with a silent laugh to herself she remembered that the one thing she couldn’t do anymore was make things warm. 

Then again, she let her mind wander, she’d warmed Draco up. At least to her. She reasoned that it wasn’t just  _ her  _ who had done that, though. The bond helped a great deal. More than that, it actually had done almost all of the work for her. She hadn’t had to agonize over convincing him to like her or how to show him that she was worthy of his affections. Really the only thing she had done was get him to spend time with her, and that wasn’t very taxing at all. 

The very thought of having to do more than that made her gag. No, she hadn’t had to lift so much as a finger, and Draco Malfoy was wrapped right around it regardless. Now that they were closer, though, maybe doing more wouldn’t be such a bad thing. 

-*-

The conversation drifted as they played, though Forsythia had no interest in learning or seeing if she recognized the game. She didn’t even catch what it was they were betting. 

About fifteen minutes in, Draco turned and removed her mask so she could have a potion he summoned from their tent. It looked like a calming drought, but when she drank it, under the guise of a false command he’d “given” her, it was just a replenishing potion with a glamour to change the color. He didn’t give the mask back once the potion was gone. 

Her senses sharpened, but she kept her eyes unfocused and her movements slow as she handed the empty bottle back. 

The initial shock of seeing her whole face was interesting; Crabbe swore down on Blaise’s left and some of the other men jerked back.  _ Well, that’s rude _ , she thought to herself with an internal huff. 

“ _ Obedience _ , hm?” hummed Blaise. 

“Something she struggled with initially.” 

The memory of burning flesh made her wince. Her face must have been scarred from the mask. Great. 

Slowly, the men settled and their conversation lulled into jeering at each other about the game. Forsythia stopped paying attention again. The Vampire across from her let out the tiniest breath and she willed herself to keep her eyes from drifting up to him. 

-*-

“What have you done to her? She looks proper out of it, mate.” Blaise Zabini spoke loudly, breaking through her thoughts. 

“Hm? Oh, I’d forgotten about her. I haven’t done anything to her. After Rosier she has a tendency to become agitated around men, so calming draughts are necessary.” 

“Can’t imagine why,” Blaise hummed. She could feel his eyes like daggers on her while she continued staring at her own hand, “Almost makes you wonder what happened.” 

Did they really not know? Even the other Vampires had speculated relentlessly, and Draco had told Theodore in their tent. Had he not shared the story with the rest of their party? 

The room was silent again, minus the anxious shifting of the other Vampire. All eyes swiveled to her. 

Her entire body was frozen in place, her jaw locked and her eyes pinned to the back of her hand. There was a tiny scar there from an injury she’d gotten as a child; it somehow survived the change and was still with her. She remembered the injury, though it took a moment to bring it to the surface. 

“Care to share, Miss Black?” 

She’d been eight. Her mother told her so many times not to run through the manor in her socks, but it was too fun not to. As soon as she’d turned her back, Forsythia went sliding across the marble and into the bust of her great aunt Alfreida. As the bust fell, she managed to slip out of the way only to have a shard from it shoot into the back of her hand as it smashed. Marble on marble. 

“Did Rosier beat her so badly she forgot how to speak?” 

The cut had burned, and she’d screamed non-stop while he father summoned the shard from it. Her mother had to hold her down in her lap, arms crossed over her little body while she screamed and screamed until her throat cracked. 

“She’s drugged, Blaise, I doubt she even knows what’s going on.”

Draco’s voice shook her. Forsythia blinked. She wasn’t eight, her hand wasn’t bleeding, the only thing that hurt was the sharp stabbing in her chest. 

She was in a tent in the middle of the woods, a table full of young men watching her like wolves stalking a lone sheep. 

That was an oversight on their part, though, and with another blink Forsythia remembered the truth: she was the wolf. Not just her, there was another, too, watching her from under their dark lashes. An ally. 

Slowly, so they all could see, Forsythia lifted her eyes from the scar on the back of her hand and looked directly at Blaise Zabini, right into his soul like she could see it gleaming just behind his dark eyes. He stopped smiling. 

Something dark and cold pulled tightly just behind her sternum. Her previous anxiety was soothed, and she felt Draco shift, lazily turning his head up to look at her. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his bored and unimpressed expression, one eyebrow raised like he didn’t expect much from her. 

_ Don’t be reckless _ . His voice floated through her head, but it seemed like he changed his mind because he smirked and gave her the tiniest nod. It was barely a dip of his chin, but she saw.  _ Maybe be a little reckless _ . 

Well, if he was giving her permission. 

“You want to know why I killed Rosier?” she asked, stepping forward and leaning her hip into the side of Draco’s chair, casual. Draco looked over his hand, his free hand drifting towards her and draping itself over her hip. The outright statement of his touch, that she was his to touch in the first place, made a harsh wave of heat pass over her. 

The other boys glanced at each other while Blaise held her gaze steadily, eyes still warm with amusement despite his grin being gone. 

The other Vampire finally looked up, too. His bright eyes locked on hers and he gave her a warning shake of his head. She watched out of the corner of her eye as his face became a mask of shock as he looked her over. 

She didn’t know him, and it was a relief. He didn’t know her, either, from what she could tell, but he certainly looked murderous as he took in the marks on her face. If only he knew the whole story. 

Forsythia almost laughed. The other Vampire didn’t know, but he was about to.

“I killed Rosier because he thought it was prudent to beat me within an inch of my new life regularly and then try to rape me over an interrogation table. I killed Rosier because his arrogance and brazen attitude towards me and my body deserved to be punished.” 

When none of them spoke, and Blaise’s eyes widened, she took his grin from him and showed her teeth,  _ all _ of her teeth. The other Vampire flinched, lowering his head submissively. 

“Haven’t you wondered why yours bow their heads to  _ me  _ instead of me bowing to them? Women in our covens are highly revered, taken care of,  _ worshipped _ ,” she let the world roll off her tongue, nodding towards Blaise’s charge, “and even though I’m the youngest of them, youngest of all of you, too, seeing as I’m forever frozen at seventeen, they still treat me with the respect of a Lady.

“The moment Rosier put his hands on me, he was signing his own death certificate in my blood. If I hadn’t wanted to kill him myself, I could have just as easily asked any of the men in this coven you’ve all created to do it, and they would have without question.”

She let that sit with them before she let herself shudder and float back down into her previously hunched and demure position; her eyes on the side of Draco’s face while she let her gaze glaze back over. Quiet. Subservient. Bound to him. Her eyelids fluttered. His hand tightened on her before he pushed her back behind him once more. 

There was a shimmer in the air, and the other Vampire whispered, “Are you alright?” 

She let her chin dip just enough to indicate to him that she was fine. It was nice to have somebody ask. 

Blaise cleared his throat. 

“Well, I can’t say I’m surprised to hear any of that. Rosier was always ambitious to a fault, I think we can all agree on that. A toast, then, to Miss Black’s return to General Malfoy.” 

Blaise raised his glass, then the others followed him until Draco was the only one still looking at his cards. They didn’t wait for him, and were drinking to her while he snorted and tossed his cards down. 

  
“I believe, gentlemen, I am owed my winnings.” 

Groans all around. 

-*-

Forsythia kept her eyes down until Draco took her arm and unstuck her hand, his fingers gentle on her as he turned her away from the table and back out of the tent. There were shouted good-nights, and Blaise walked out with them, his amber scent making her head spin a bit. 

As soon as they were outside, Blaise took out a cigarette and lit it with a click of his fingers. He and Draco passed it back and forth as he walked with them through the trees. 

“That was impressive, Black. Didn’t know you had it in you,” he breathed, smoke curling up as they paused between the main camp and Draco’s tent. It took Forsythia a few breaths to fall back into herself, and when she did she glanced at Blaise once more. His Vampire had come along, too, looking just as anxious as he had during the card game. 

Back in the camp she heard Jonathan Francis-Curt snort at her. 

“Quiet, you.” she snapped at him just quiet enough for the men next to her not to hear, glaring through the dark towards where he was leaning casually against the tree he was secured to. 

The other Vampire scooted forward, blocking out Forsythia’s view of Jonathan. “I don’t need a guard,” she snapped at him, quiet still, letting out a low hiss before it stopped short when Draco grabbed her waist. 

“You can relax, Thia. Blaise knows.” 

It took her a moment to find her voice, “Blaise knows what?” 

“Blaise knows about the bond and how you’re not a docile little fawn.” 

“Me and Ash are the same. Our bond already completely a month or two ago,” Blaise said, throwing his Vampire a rueful but affectionate glare. 

Forsythia shivered, unsure for a moment as she looked between the three of them, “How’s that then?” 

Blaise scoffed as he took a long drag, “Bit weird. Tried to trade him for you but The Dark Lord had other plans. Guess you and Draco are a better match.” he said, exhaling and grinning at her again. 

Ash snorted, but offered nothing else as he continued to keep Forsythia out of sight of the other Vampires despite her snapping at him to knock it off. 

“I’m sorry to have deprived you of dealing with me.” She said, rolling her eyes. Draco looked like he wanted to interject, but pointedly glared at the ground instead. 

Blaise waved her off, offering the cigarette to her instead of Draco, who still had his eyes on the ground. Forsythia took it, set it between her lips and breathed. She’d mistaken it for a tobacco cigarette only to find that it certainly wasn’t. 

What a strange turn of events. It had only been a few hours and she’d gone from being the pliant, quiet assassin and right hand of General Malfoy back to just Thia; standing in the middle of the woods with boys from school smoking weed. For the briefest moment, it felt like things were okay, like this was the most normal occurrence. 

“Does skunk work for vamps?” Blaise asked Draco, his eyebrows knitted together. Draco only shrugged, but Ash finally spoke, “A bit. Not as much as would be pleasurable.” 

His accent was thick now that he spoke aloud. Italian, she guessed. Equally strange. What was an Italian Vampire doing in the middle of the UK with a bunch of Death Eaters? 

Forsythia wanted to ask but she still didn’t trust Blaise entirely, and who knew if anyone else could hear them. If they could be overheard, then maybe they could see them too. She glanced nervously around Ash’s shoulder, suddenly just fine with him blocking her from view. 

“Nobody can see us, love, relax.” 

Blaise’s voice made her jump, and she jerked into Ash’s chest. Horrified, Forsythia moved back to Draco, not feeling alright again until he draped his arm back around her waist. If he was there then she was safe. 

“So, Forsythia is a Lady, then?” Blaise asked, eyeing her curiously as Ash stepped back to his side. 

“Correct. She is the youngest female in the coven, so she is to be taken care of.” 

“Why?” 

Ash scowled, “You wizards see no value in keeping young women safe. That was clear when she spoke of that monster Rosier.” 

Forsythia shuddered, clinging closer to Draco at the memory of Rosier’s hand on her bare shoulder, his cloak caressing her knee. 

Snapping her out of it, Draco squeezed her waist, “ _ Most _ wizards don’t see the value, no.” 

“She has already made such a grand reputation for herself. You would think he had known better.” 

While she was certainly more comfortable being with them outside, nothing felt grand standing there with them in the woods. Even if, while in the tent, she remembered she was the wolf amongst the flock, now she felt like a child again. Being around other Vampires, particularly old ones, definitely had that effect. 

“I think she got her message across quite clearly.” 

“Correct. There should have never been a message needing clear communication in the first place. Before you wizards took her, she was rarely alone and without a guardian. If you had any regard for her-.” 

“Ash…” Blaise gave him a warning look and the Vampire glared right back, though he did go quiet. 

“I’ll keep her safe now that she’s back with me,” Draco interjected, and she believed him fully. 

-*-

Their conversation eased, and they went back to smoking until Forsythia had the joint again after Ash had shook his head dismissively after Blaise offered it to him. 

She didn’t mind smoking with the boys once she was calm. It made her feel like a naughty teenager again and that reminiscing soothed the sharp ache in her chest. The smoke relaxed her, too, just a little bit. As Ash had said, it wasn’t enough to really be fun or anything. 

Maybe if she was lucky Draco actually did have a calming draught he could give her as soon as they were alone. 

“Better get back before they all wonder if we’ve had a threesome, hmm?” Blaise said, laughing at his own joke. Draco gave him a weak nod, “Should get my sweet girl home, too, no? Before they all come out wanting a piece of her as well. Did you know Nott asked me to pass her around?” he asked, scoffing. Ash looked positively affronted. 

Blaise shrugged as he walked backwards towards his own tent, hands stuck in the front pockets of his trousers, “Nott’s a horny fuck, don’t know what to tell ya, mate. Brush it off. He means well. I think.” He dissolved into laughter again before he disappeared into his tent. Ash gave her one last drop of his head before he stepped in after Blaise. 

Forsythia raised an eyebrow at them, but thought it not prudent to ask anything specific. She turned to Draco instead while he took the spliff from between her fingers and stubbed it out, “I’m your sweet girl, am I?” she prompted, watching him carefully. 

Draco nodded, smirking, “You are. Too sweet to be allowed, and bloody damn good at scaring the piss out of my friends. Never seen Flint sweat like that in my life. Will you come around the next time we play cards? I think you were good luck.” 

“You’re high.” 

“Nah, not really. I’m exhausted, and I’d like to have a cheeky cuddle in privacy away from prying eyes.” 

So, he took her wrist and led her straight back to his tent. 

-*-

“Probably should get to sleep, hmm? Or, at least, I should, anyway. Do you usually stay awake when I don’t keep you in my bed?”

Forsythia nodded, “I don’t think I  _ can _ sleep anymore. There’s no reason to try, so I usually stay up reading or pacing or staring at the fire.” 

He nodded along as she spoke, “Well..did you want to come with me or did you want to stay out here?” 

The answer seemed so obvious, but she took some pity on him given his slightly altered state and instead got up and went to the bedroom just off the main living area of the tent. That was where she’d seen him take their other bag, and guessed that was where he’d be sleeping.

Draco stumbled in after her, taking off his shirt and then tapping his trousers again like he had at the rowhouse. It took him two tries before he got them to transfigure properly. Feeling zero guilt, Forsythia laughed at him. He only scowled good naturedly. 

Draco held her in bed once her clothes were transfigured, too, his arm around her shoulders, sitting up and awake with her draped experimentally over his chest. He’d mentioned while they were getting comfortable that he slept too warm and wondered if she’d keep him cool during the night. It was obvious he just wanted to touch her, and she wanted to touch him, too. Just for the physical reassurance that she’d made it through the card game. 

The longer she lie on him, the more her previous fear faded, it felt good, right even, to share his bed. 

“You should sleep,” she whispered a few minutes after he’d waved the candles out. When he didn’t answer she shifted to look up at him. 

Draco’s head was leaned back against their shared pillows, his face relaxed and open while his eyes moved behind his eyelids. She tried to turn more, to fully look into his face, but his arms tightened and his eyebrows squeezed together. His lips moved, words ghosting between them though the only one she caught was “no”. She guessed that meant he wanted her to stay against him. 

Carefully, Forsythia slipped her arm under his back and snuggled in, pretending once more that they weren’t on a mission to find Harry Potter and instead were in her dorm room at school. There had been no card game. She’d snuck him in after the other girls were asleep, cast  _ muffliato _ all around the hangings around her bed and would have to sneak him out before the sun came up. It was easy to make up a scenario, like she was dreaming while fully awake. An escape was what felt right, so she continued to day dream. 

Forsythia ignored the little burst of heat that warmed her abdomen when he whispered her name in his sleep a few hours later, and instead let her mind wander into somewhat darker territory. What if she’d never been turned? What if Voldemort had never come back? Things would surely be so, so different. 

For one, she was certain she and Draco never would have ended up being as close as they were. All he’d have was the memory of her knickers and she the vision of his robes billowing out around him as he left the common room in front of her, the back of his head in Potions class. Maybe she would have continued on her path to become a curse breaker with Gringotts, or rather, an assistant to Professor Flitwick as he’d mentioned some weeks before she’d been attacked. 

“ _ You’ll always have a place here _ .” That’s what he’d told her, nodding along understandingly when she told him, still only seventeen at the time, that she wasn’t sure what she wanted to do yet. She wondered, lying there against Draco’s chest, if that offer would still hold after the war. That was, of course, if Voldemort lost. If he won...she supposed she’d be tied to Draco for as long as the division was active. Would they run out of people to torture?

When she shivered at the thought, Draco tucked her messily under the covers, dragging them over her head and muttering under his breath again that she needed to stay out of the sun. 


	15. Chapter 15

“You know,” she said the next morning as Draco slowly roused himself, “even if I’m in the direct sun I won’t die. Sure, it’s uncomfortable and makes me feel like I’ve got a fever, but it won’t kill me.” He didn’t look convinced and rolled his eyes. 

“Even so,” he said with a sigh, “The sun has no business kissing you while I’m still around.” 

She snorted before she could stop herself. “The bond certainly makes you romantic.” 

“This isn’t the bond. Also I spent a month missing you, didn’t I?” 

“I didn’t know you’d missed me.” 

“I won’t say it again. The first time  _ was  _ the bond, ruddy thing.” 

“Can you  _ really _ tell the difference between you and the bond?”

“The bond makes me submissive towards you, softer. I, myself, am more..possessive.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” 

As if to further his point, he slowly brought one of his hands down to rest on her hip, and when he tightened his grip on her there it was clear, even as tired as he still was, that it was him doing the grabbing. It felt good, his fingers digging into her hips while he glanced at her lips again. “What contract did you mention last night to Theo before we went out?”

It was his turn to snort, “You really want to know about that?” She waited, watching as his lips quirked up. 

“When I was told by The Dark Lord that he wanted me to head up this division, the Vampires, we all signed blood oaths that even though you were all supposed to be disposable, you wouldn’t be damaged in any way by the Death Eater you were assigned to. Each time a new Vampire was captured, their blood was added to the oath of the Death Eater they were assigned to.

“Non-permanent discipline is allowed. Any disfiguring, maiming, or emotional damages that can’t be undone is grounds for either termination from the division or death, depending on the degree of contract violation. Despite not caring about you, The Dark Lord understands the power he wields in having you under his command. Power is not something he’d give up or take for granted at this point in the war.” 

Draco turned them, rolled them over so she was leaning fully into his shoulder as she’d been the night before, “So, in short, I always knew coming into this that whoever I ended up having assigned to me would eventually be able to turn the tables, so to speak, because of the blood bond. The contract operates on the principle that both participants hate each other to some degree; that sort of darkness is very powerful. However, as soon as hatred ceases to exist, at least on some level, then one day, surely not long from now actually, the contract will be broken and I suspect all hell will break loose. Because The Dark Lord doesn’t know anything other than hate, he’s never thought to think of the consequences of, say, a Vampire no longer wanting to kill their Death Eater.

“It would take a little more than just becoming chummy, though. A physical act of genuine care or love is what will break a contract. At Nottingham Manor, you apparated us away because the bond told you to, and because you were saving yourself. If you had done that out of genuine affection for me, or out of a genuine concern for my well being the contract would have broken. I was actually nervous at first that it had, but then thankfully you went right back to hating the very sight of me.” 

Forsythia slouched against him, her lips set in a hard line, “What exactly will happen when the contract breaks?” she asked, her eyebrows pushing together. 

He grinned down at her and grabbed hold of one of her hands, tangling their fingers together in a leap of affection, “That’s the genius part. The other thing I’ve hidden from him, the only other, apart from you, is that exact thing. When one contract breaks, they all will. The masks and command charms will be void. Hence why I’ve been keeping you in the dark about all of this. I couldn't risk ours breaking too early,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at her. “Having you transferred to Rosier was not part of my plan, but in doing so you’ve inadvertently shown The Dark Lord how powerful I am. It’s gained me a lot of respect, you know.” 

Suddenly, a deep sense of understanding overcame her. “You don’t want him to win.” 

“No. I’ve grown bored of being told what to do, and I can never forgive what happened to you when we were apart.” 

“But..all the Order members..”

“Have been transported outside of the country for the time being. Although I believe Granger was allowed to rejoin Potter.” 

“You..” Suddenly, Hisky’s previous declaration of his goodness made sense. 

“Severus, actually. I just make sure they’re within his reach and he makes them disappear.” 

She blinked up at him, unsure of how to express to him how pleased she was that he continued to not be as cruel as she’d originally braced herself for him to be. Draco cocked a brow at her, “Don’t look at me like you’re surprised. I thought once I’d started returning your things to you that you’d have figured out that I was done being a little soldier.

“You were actually why I continued getting them out..I’d been having doubts if it was worth it, but then you turned up and I had a reason to keep fighting.” He added sheepishly. A very intense image flashed in her head; the one surefire way to ensure the contract broke exactly when it was meant to without relying on outside forces to set up the perfect situation. 

Another warm shiver went through her belly. A  _ physical _ act of love. “Oh shit.” 

“I’ve never heard you swear before. Thought maybe you didn’t know how.” 

“That means..breaking a contract. You mean..sex, don’t you?”

“That is one idea. Yes.” His cheeks turned bright red and he refused to look at her.

“With me?” she prompted, her entire body going hot at the idea.

“Well, you’re a right lot more fit than any of the others, so I dare say so.” 

Her body felt like it was pleasantly burning. That was a tall order to just hand to somebody, particularly somebody who had only ever had sex once, and that one time also just so happened to be prior to being changed into a Vampire. Of course, said one time sex partner had also fooled around with her in other ways, but the actual sex had only happened the one time, just before the Christmas holiday. 

“Ah..I see..”

“You..have, haven’t you? I thought back in school. You saw one of the Weasley twins..?”

“Y-Yeah. Fred Weasley.”

“He was much too old for you, anyway.”

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous now,” she joked, though her voice sounded too strained. Draco sat up, his jaw set, “And if I am?” 

It felt like her stomach did a backflip just under her skin. He took her hip again as he sat up fully while she stammered, “W-Well, I guess that’s a personal problem?” 

“Was he..good to you, at least?”

“You really want to talk about what it was like to sleep with Fred Weasley?”

“I want to make sure he was gentle with you.”

She scoffed at him, looking away and feeling very thankful for her inability to blush, “I don’t really remember. It was before I changed, obviously, so the memory is sketchy at best.” 

“What do you remember about it?”

Even though she wasn’t looking, she could feel his eyes burning into her face. She gave a noncommittal shrug, “He talked a lot, I think. It was..fun, I suppose. But I was also only sixteen, so I imagine my taste has changed since then. We were also in a broom cupboard.” 

Draco snorted at her, his expression relaxing as he guided her back to face him, “Dirty girl,” he said, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “Well, tell me about you, then,” she snapped, knowing for sure now if she was able her face would be beet red. 

“Oh me? I was sixteen, too. I think, probably while you were in a broom cupboard with Weasley, I was in the girls dorm with Pansy. Is that enough information or would you like a reenactment? I’m sure, with you, though, there will be much, much more biting this time around.”

Forsythia pushed on his chest but he only held her tighter, “You’re so rude,” she snapped, folding her arms over her chest and burning under his touch. The night before she’d asked him not to flirt with her, but surely this was flirting. They were flirting and it didn’t scare her. A slow, cruel grin spread across his face, “No matter. We can’t, not yet. We need Potter first.” 

She blanched, mouth falling open as she met his eyes again, “You can’t seriously mean that?”

“What? Oh, no..not like that. We need to  _ find  _ Potter first, get him to Severus, and then we can break the contract.” 

“Is that really going to work?”

“Oh yes, it will. Provided Potter doesn’t..well, try to kill us before we can explain. I’m sure Granger shared what happened once she was captured. Hopefully he won’t start cursing us on sight. Plus, I’m sure he’ll be even more furious after what my Aunt Bella did to her…” he gave a shiver and looked disgusted. 

“The scar on her arm?”

“Yeah, among the other things she did to torture the girl. I wasn’t surprised she gave up her parents so willingly once we got to her. Not to worry, I didn’t let that information go anywhere so they’re safe, too.” he was starting to sound bored. Forsythia framed his face between her hands, their difference in color and temperature stark, “You’re a good man, you know that right?”

He suddenly looked very surly, “How dare you accuse me of being such a thing.” His expression broke just before he flipped them playfully so he was hovering over her. 

“Wait, wait. I have a question,” she gasped, grabbing onto his arms and trying to keep her expression serious despite the joy that filled her in every place they touched. 

“Yes?”

“This..is it the bond or is it you?” If it was the bond she’d give him the benefit of the doubt. If it was him, though, maybe she’d have to rethink not wanting him to be so flirty with her.

He sat back looking thoughtful, his weight heavy as he sat over her hips, “A little of both, I think. There is a rather embarrassing part of me, driven by the bond but still very much my own, that wants..more.” She squinted up at him, “More of what?”

Within a minute, Draco had her properly pinned under him while he seemed to be memorizing her face, his nose barely three inches above hers. A very human shudder went through her at their proximity, and he gave her a knowing look. He must have really missed her, otherwise what would explain his behavior other than the bond pushing them along? 

“More of  _ this.  _ Closeness. Is it the same for you?”

“I..yes, I think so. This is all very new, I’ve never done this before.” 

“Can you tell me what he said to you? Weasley, I mean,” he breathed, his scent making her entire brain go fuzzy as she remembered being alone in her bed with him. She supposed they were alone now, too, and with the bond getting stronger seemingly every hour, it was only natural for their feelings to progress faster now that they couldn’t get away from each other and she’d been drinking straight from him. However, she hadn’t counted on him diving this deeply into the bond. 

His sudden change in subject was puzzling, but the bond encouraged her to answer him. He  _ wanted  _ to know and, with a deep breath, she wanted him to know, too. Sure, the bond made her more open about it, but she still chose willingly to start talking. 

“Uh, well, th-that’s hard to remember, too-,” Forsythia stammered, shying away when Draco leaned closer and threatening to kiss her if she didn’t fess up, “Okay-Okay, I think, uh, he said something a-about, uh, you’re making it really hard to think straight,” she whined, going to grab his face to keep from from brushing his nose against hers.

Secretly, and maybe a little naively, Forsythia hoped the trauma of being with Rosier would have slowed their bond some, lessened it in some way. Much to her growing anxiety, though, it seemed stronger than ever. Her own control was slipping and it was starting to take over. 

Draco shook his head away from her hands and gave her another inch of space between them, “Try harder, and keep your hands to yourself.” His velvet tone made her shiver as she rested her now clenched fists against his bed once more. 

“He said,” she said between her teeth, “that he was surprised I was so wet.” 

Draco’s eyes flickered up to her lips. Her voice had grown weaker with every word. It was too intense watching him as his expression darkened, so she fixed her eyes on the ceiling of the tent and tried to keep her breath from hitching.  _ He’s not Rosier, he won’t hurt you _ , she thought to herself. 

“I’ll bet he  _ was _ surprised, the bastard. I would expect nothing less if I had you hidden away in a broom cupboard.” How did he sound so casual talking about this? Also, was he flirting  _ again _ ? She swallowed hard and tried to calm herself down; if he was just curious there was no reason to get so bothered. Besides, flirting with him was  _ fun.  _

Forsythia pressed her hand over his where it rested just to the left of her head, her voice quaking as she struggled to keep her composure, “A-And, that even though I was..aroused..he’d have to-to-,” thinking clearly was nearly impossible. All she could smell was him, and his sweet, heady arousal. It was a little bit nice to know he was just as affected by her as she was by him. The bond was pushing her to arch her body up into his but she did her best to fight it. 

“What did he have to do?” He prompted, brushing his nose against hers again. 

“G-go slow.” 

Draco chuckled, the playful smirk tugging at his lips again, “You need me to go slow or Weasley said he’d have to go slow with you?” 

“Both.” 

His smirk warmed into a delighted smile, “We can go as slow as you’d like. Tell me what else he said to you.” Something in his expression made her relax a little more, and, she suspected the bond, pushed her to tell him more. Afterall, he was just curious. 

It was easier to relax now that he’d stopped teasing his nose against hers, though from the hungry glint in his eyes she saw when she chanced a glance at him, she knew it wouldn’t last. “He was behind me. A-After we started he leaned over me and kept whispering in my ear how good I felt.” 

“Did he feel good, too?” 

“I think so. That part is..difficult to remember.” 

“Good. Once we get Potter out of the way we can..if you want, I mean. Otherwise there are other ways to break the contract.” 

She looked back down at him, his face suddenly vulnerable and nervous as he met her gaze. “That depends, is this the bond or is this you?” 

“It’s me.” 

“Then..yes. I think that would be...alright.” Her stomach tightened. She knew full well some of her excitement was being fueled on by the bond, but she let it carry her through the conversation. It was what she wanted, anyways. What he wanted. Forsythia shivered; they had some work to do in regards to their physical affections if they were going to be comfortable enough with each other to sleep together by the time they needed to break the contracts. 

He cracked a grin, relief flooding his expression, “Well, we can certainly talk about it more once we get there. I’m not sure how it feels for you, but it’s very challenging for me to remember that we have to wait.” 

With a noncommittal shrug, she sighed and said honestly, “It’s a challenge for me to do anything when you’re this close to me. Your blood is..well, it makes it hard to think.  _ You  _ make it hard to think.” 

He asked if she needed something to take the edge off and she shook her head, “Not yet. I’ll let you know, though.” Even if she wanted to feed, she also didn’t want to take too much advantage of how willing he was. No, better to only do it when she needed to, not just when she wanted to. 

Since he’d mentioned how he knew what of his behavior was the bond and what was just him it would be interesting to keep track of as their comfort with each other physically grew.

Even now, though, there were little things she’d picked up. When his hands tightened on her hips, that was Draco. When he’d rest his eyes on her lips, that was the bond. Playful banter, Draco. Stroking her cheek, the bond. 

“Tell me more about Weasley.” 

“Why do you want to know so badly?” 

“I’m a glutton for punishment. I also want to know what you like.” Ah, so he was trying to get comfortable, too. It felt like he was extending a very vulnerable olive branch, so to speak, so she took it willingly. 

“Fine, but you asked for it. He told me I was a good girl when I..well, when he made me..,” his name fell from her lips as his expression darkened possessively and he held her waist instead of her hip. It had surprised her, though she knew she should have anticipated him reacting strongly after saying  _ that _ of all things. But it was so fun to push into him in that way, to play with fire, to stoke the flames of his affection and jealousy. 

His eyes burned when she looked back to him, “He made you come?” 

She nodded weakly, cursing the bond for making her feel so deeply affected by how close their faces were again and for increasing her trust in him so quickly, “I think so.” 

“You are a good girl,” he breathed, then shuddered and grimaced. “That was the bond, not me.” 

Forsythia snorted, “If you don’t stop teasing me I’m going to go insane.”

“Oh no, my darling,” he cooed, sitting back and watching her steadily, “you being in my bed in just your knickers is the definition of being driven insane.”

“I have a top on, I’m not in just my knickers?”

“No, but you’re about to not be in anything at all.” 

A desperate sigh left her mouth before she could stop it, and from there it seemed all bets were off. One moment she was flat under him, the next he had her flipped up over his chest with their hands locked together and her knees on either side of his hips. “Oh.” 

“That was me,” he clarified, shifting his hips under her to force her to be nose to nose with him again. She could feel his heart pounding so hard it almost felt like it was under her ribs instead of his. 

Despite knowing it could ruin everything, completely destroy the tiny amount of solace they’d started to build in each other, she started to lean down to kiss him. She froze, though, when the bell peeled out in the main room. 

He growled, “Don’t move.” 

He untangled their hands and took her waist again, setting her gently beside him before pushing himself up and subtly adjusting his trousers with a shake of his head. There was an edge of command in his voice, so she stayed still as he disappeared back into the main room after snapping the bedroom door closed to hide her from view. 

Forsythia leaned back against the pillows, bracing herself for more comments from Nott about her. Maybe if she prepared herself she wouldn’t be such a wreck this time. Then again, perhaps after her little performance at the card game the night before, he’d be a bit more respectful. She grinned to herself. 

“It’s seven in the morning, Nott, what do you want?” 

“I’ve sent out four scouts to Godric’s Hollow like you asked. The rest of us will wait until you’re ready to go to Grimmauld Place.” 

“You should take the last scout and go there to stand watch. I will wait until we hear word from the team at Godric’s Hollow. We need to be precise with this - if he gets wind that we’re still actively looking then it’ll be over.” 

“Yes, sir. Is your.. _ she  _ somewhere around?” 

“Is that really your business?” 

“I just meant that..you saw how Zabini went sort of mental when he was without his for a few days.” 

“Do I look as though I’m going sort of mental?” 

“No, sir. I’ll, uh, I’ll take my leave then.” 

The tent went quiet and she could hear Draco taking several deep breaths before he came back to her. “If Theodore Nott interrupts us again I’ll kill him.” 

She sat up from the pillows to properly look at him, taking in the flame of color in his cheeks and lips as he stalked to her side. He didn’t waste any time in hovering over her again, “Where were we?” 

“I think you were wanting me to tell you more about Fred?” 

“Ah, yes. Lovely.” 

She peeked up at him through her lashes as he sat back against her hips again, his face open and curious. Maybe getting comfortable wouldn’t take as long as she thought it might. 

“Is this you or the bond?” 

“Me again. I like sitting on you.” 

When she only stared at him, he let out a little sigh, “This is..very strange for me. To go from not giving you any attention or paying you much mind to feeling like I need to touch you every second and kiss you and ravage-,” he stopped himself short and turned pink again, “I know it’s just being propelled by the bond, and that talking so casually about all of this is the bond, I get that. But some of it, parts of it, I mean, are things that I want desperately.” 

“What things?” She felt like she didn’t want to know the answer though she asked it anyways before she lost her nerve. 

His face relaxed and he dropped down off of her to sit next to her knees instead, his legs resting over hers while he leaned back onto his hands. 

“The..worst parts, I suppose. I’d like to lock us away in the rowhouse under every protective charm known to man and just..have time like this with you. After everything with Rosier I can’t handle not having you near me. Even if the bond is pushing this, I don’t want to be alone anymore, I don’t want  _ you _ to be alone anymore. I want to hold you and I want to-.” 

She reached for him again, slid her hand cautiously up against his cheek and went stiff when he grabbed onto her wrist and held her hand to him tighter. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain everything right now. It’s just as confusing for me.” 

He took a soft breath. 

“You were going to kiss me. Before Nott interrupted.” 

She hesitated, her fingers twitching against his cheek, before she nodded once tightly. He smirked, “I suppose it would come down to me having more control than you do.” 

“If you’re going to be like that then I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Ah, were you still planning to?”

“Well not now. The moment’s gone.” 

“What if I kiss you first?”

“You just got done telling me how superior your self control is.”

His expression fell, and he suddenly looked impossibly young, “Do you ever think about what it’ll be like after all of this is over?”

“If he loses, you mean?”

“Yes.”

Forsythia took a deep breath, savoring his scent as it filled her, “Not really. I suppose the only thing that will change for me is that I won’t have to torture my old classmates or Death Eaters anymore.” 

He winced as if her words had hurt him. “R-Right.” A heavy awkwardness settled over them and Draco seemed to be on the verge of asking her something when he suddenly shook his head and went steely. 

“This bond is going to be the death of me.”

“Oh?”

“Even if he loses, I’ll still be bonded to you, won’t I?”

“Yes.” 

He snorted, “I’m sure my father will be oh-so pleased when I bring you home, won’t he?” 

“Am I meeting your parents?” 

“Maybe just my mother. She’s..less concerned about those kinds of things.” 

“Why am I meeting your parents?”

“You said I’d still be bonded to you.”

Forsythia blinked up at him, unsure of what to say. It sounded like she was missing the obvious. 

“Is this you or the bond?” She asked. 

“Me. What about you?”

“Me, too. It’s usually me. Except when you start flirting, then the bond pushes a little harder.” 

Draco grimaced, his lips turning up, “Brilliant. How is it that I’m always being pushed by it to misbehave and yet you’re sitting there in your own right mind and only being affected when things get romantic?”

“You’re the human. It’s bonding you to me, not as much the other way around. Anything the bond pushes me to do is for your benefit.” 

“So explain bond sickness then. That seemed very much like it was benefiting  _ you _ .” 

He had her there. Forsythia didn’t know how to answer him without giving away that the whole reason their bond had properly started to form was because she had lied about that exact thing. 

“W-Well, part of the reliance we have on blood is part of it. Since I’ve only been having your blood if I don’t get enough of it then I start getting ill. All I know for sure is that it’s comforting, a relief really, when you’re close to me.” Her verbal stumbling did nothing to assure him. 

Draco took a moment to watch her before he sighed, “I know I already asked, but are you sure you don’t need a potion? Otherwise I don’t mind the idea of you biting again. That’s me, not the bond.” It was helpful with him calling it out. 

Eager to change the subject, Forsythia nodded, “Might as well. If they find Harry in Godric’s Hollow then we won’t have any more time alone, right?”

Draco smirked, “No, not at first. Once he’s safe with Severus we’ll have to break the contracts anyways. Something to look forward to.” 

He actually winked at her, and Forsythia physically clutched the duvet to keep herself still. So, so badly she wanted to break through her walls of calm, grab his smug face and kiss him until the world surely ended around them. 

“You want to kiss me again, don’t you?”

“Shut up.” 

He wiggled his eyebrows at her, “Ah, what’s one kiss? I snogged half the girls in our year without spending half as much time with them as I have with you.” 

“So you admit that you want to kiss me back?”

“When did I say I didn’t?”

Frustrated, Forsythia scoffed and folded her arms over her chest, rolling her eyes and looking away from him. The sight of his cocky expression was making her very annoyed, and despite the banter being fun, this kind of teasing was not. Only because they couldn’t  _ do  _ anything about it. Not that she wanted to. Of course not. It was just the bond. Or at least, that’s what she kept telling herself. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Thia. Here, go ahead and bite me for payback. You can do it like you really mean it.” 

“I can’t bite you when you’re sitting that far away from me,” she snapped, still refusing to look at him. 

“Let’s go out to the couch, it’ll be less..suggestive there.” 

Finally, she let out a loud sigh and turned to meet his unsure gaze. “Come on,” he said, pushing up off of her and holding his hand out begrudgingly. 

She ignored his hand, walking right past him and out to the couch like he said. If he wanted things to cool down then she was more than willing to do whatever it took.

However, the promise of his blood was making it hard to do that. Again, she remembered the dark interrogation room and the risk of getting caught in there with him. Then again, she guessed if anybody had found them he would have obliviated their memories and they would have gotten on with it. 

Draco’s hand closed around hers as he strode past her and collapsed on the couch, pulling her with him. “Where do you want me?” he asked, smirking when she squawked as she fell after him, catching herself before she kneed him in the stomach in her haste to stay off of him. 

“I thought you said you wanted things to stop being suggestive?”

“The bond says otherwise. I told you, I’m done fighting it. Do your worst,” he said, dramatically leaning his head to the side and barring his neck to her. When she didn’t move, he reached up and pulled his collar down further, “Wait, did you want my wrist instead?” As he started to sit up, Forsythia put her hand on his chest and pushed. He leaned back. 

It wasn’t her full strength, but the fact that he let her effectively pin him back against the arm of the couch made her stomach flutter. Draco looked pleasantly surprised, one eyebrow raised and a warmth rising in his cheeks as he looked from her hand on him to her face again. “We’re really walking this line, aren’t we?” he asked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. 

“That’s how it seems. Be still so I can drink.” 

Draco snorted, though he did stay still as she moved slowly to hover over his chest. “You know, before now I’ve never really thought of you as a Vampire. Even when you were drinking from me directly. Now, though, you actually sort of look like one.”

“What’s that mean?” she asked, confused because he’d seen her bite other people, nearly frenzy multiple times, the aftermath of when she killed and then dragged a Death Eater around the interrogation floor like a toy, and yet  _ this  _ was the time he thought she looked like a Vampire? Despite feeling the pull to sink her teeth into his neck, she sat back and narrowed her eyes on him. 

“You’ve got me pinned down to a couch, we’re all alone, your pupils dilate every time you start thinking about kissing me...or biting me,” he said, sounding thoughtful. Forsythia carefully took her hand off of his chest, but Draco reached up and held it in his. 

“Come on, Thia, you don’t need to prolong any suffering. It’s me and I want you to.” 

He moved his hand up to her elbow and pulled, guiding her to rest cautiously against his chest before turning his head again. When she settled forward enough to get some leverage, Draco’s hand drifted down to her waist, “There you go- fuck-.” Draco tensed under her as she bit, and she mumbled she was sorry in between urging the pin pricks in his skin to bleed more freely. 

His chest stuttered under hers and his fingers dug in, “Do you have to use your tongue like that?” he asked, his voice wobbling in a way she’d never heard it. The next rush of blood was sweet, though. Like apples. 

Forsythia lifted her head enough to ask, breathless, if he was getting turned on. 

“What a crude question.”

“I can taste it in your blood, probably should tell me the truth.” 

“If you can taste it then why are you asking?”

“I want you to admit it.” 

She ducked down again, cleaning where his blood had tracked down towards his collar. His breath shuddered again, and then both of his hands were on her waist, “You know, the bond isn’t going to be able to keep me submissive forever.” His threat sounded more like a warning. 

“Counting on it,” she gasped before going back to the open wound and drinking again. 

Now he almost entirely tasted like apples. His arousal pushed the bond harder and she let it take more control. She grinned against him, glad that she was getting payback for him teasing her earlier. Her own breath hitched as Draco pulled her closer to him and reached up to hold the back of her head. 

_ Gently _ . 

His voice inside her head made her shiver. 

She gasped when one of his hands slipped under her top, leaving her skin burning as he drew his fingertips up her back. “S’it alright if I touch you?” he asked, panting. In response, she laved at his neck, drawing the most arousing gasp from between his lips. 

He stroked her skin, gentle as ever, just feeling her. His other hand still held her waist, and when she started to pull away he grumbled and forced her to stay close, “N-Not just yet..you can have more,” he breathed. 

The hand under her shirt slid back down and pushed her hips forward into his pelvis. She scrambled to hold him, the pressure of him against her so sudden and new that it was a little overwhelming. 

“Alright?” he asked. 

Forsythia closed the wound then bit again slightly higher, using his shoulders to get some leverage as she felt the bond thrum through her belly. She had some idea of what she was doing, thanks to Fred, but it was different with Draco. 

Where Fred had taken full control of their intimate interactions, the man beneath her on the couch seemed just fine with her doing as she pleased for the most part. The bond would help guide her through it, or, at least, that was what she hoped as she let some of her control over it slip. 

It urged her to roll her hips forward against him, so she did. Draco gasped again above her ear, gripping her and thrusting forward as well. It felt good, right, like this was the correct way for her to move to cause them both the most tantalizing and teasing pleasure in their current position. 

The bond whispered through her to move her hands from his chest down to his trousers, to give him more pleasure and to bite him harder. Forsythia listened. 

Her fingers tucked into his waistband, though she didn’t move any further. She’d need his permission for that, and with her fangs sinking back into the still weeping bite she became a bit preoccupied listening to Draco gasp her name like it was a swear. 

“I  _ loathe _ being the responsible one,” he groaned, “but fucks sake, we  _ can’t _ .” 

Forsythia nodded her agreement. They couldn’t have sex, but maybe they could do other things. The bond seemed to urge her towards that, too. 

As if he was feeling exactly the same thing, Draco slipped both thumbs into the belt loops of her trousers and yanked her against him again. She has to scramble to slip her hands out of the way, but once she got them under his shirt and felt his heart positively pounding just under his ribs she decided she liked touching him there much better. 

“Tell me you hate me.” 

That was unusual. Forsythia took her hands from his skin and smoothed them over his waist then up his arms to his shoulders. The bond quickly warmed her lower body considerably, the rush of it making her flesh prickle with an anxious sort of a pleasure; a pleasure that coaxed her, enticed her to chase it fast and hard. 

Draco wouldn’t let her, though. His hands were too tight and he was too dedicated to his own rhythm as he guided her through moving how he wanted her to. Perhaps she’d written off any lack of his dominance prematurely. 

Her fingers pushed up and back into his hair, holding him securely to her while he yanked her to and from him again and again. She closed his neck, not trusting herself any longer to not drain him completely, and turned all of her attention to the growing need deep in her stomach. His arousal was evident against her, but he had her too tightly pressed to himself for her to do anything other than grind forward. 

“I hate you.” 

  
He dragged her harder into him, his fingers splaying out over her backside, every inch of him urging her to move again, “Like you mean it.” 

“ _ I hate you _ .” She spoke through her teeth, trembling and gasping as a weak rush of pleasure went through her. Draco cursed. 

She tucked her head against his shoulder and her breath hitched over his name as his fingers dug in tighter. Maybe he hadn’t realized what had just happened. What he’d coaxed her body into doing 

His hips jerked up into hers and he swore thickly while he shuddered. She sat back, eyebrows raised and eyes wide with shock. That heady apple drifted between them and she watched his eyelids flutter. 

“Really pushing that line?” she asked, and when he nodded weakly she glanced at his neck, worried she’d taken too much while they messed about. In her fear, the bond slipped away. It had gotten what it wanted. 

If she’d been irresponsible and he was hurt, she didn’t know if she’d be able to heal him on her own. If she ran out to the other Death Eaters would they come to his aid? 

His eyes were glazed and his cheeks pink as he let her back up enough to look at him, “You’ll be the death of me, I swear.” 

“Was that too much?” she asked, glancing at his neck again. The marks she’d left there looked painfully bruised. With a shrug, Draco urged her back to him, “No, not enough. That’s the problem,” he breathed. She resisted, darting her tongue out to soothe the wound just one more time while Draco groaned at her to stop being a tease. 

“I’m sorry, I’ll stop.”

“What if I don’t want you to?”

“You want me to kill you?”

“Mmm..sometimes. I suppose you can after we break the contract. I can give you permission if you’d like.” 

“What happened to thinking about life after he loses to Harry?”

“If the last thing I feel before I die is your arse in my hands and your mouth on my neck then so be it.” As if to remind her, he squeezed her bum between his hands again. 

“Now I’m certain that’s the bond talking.” 

His mouth quirked to the side and he tried to blink his eyes clear, “Yeah, that was the bond. It gets stronger the more you drink from me.” He looked down at her, his brow furrowing, “I don’t remember putting my hands here,” he said, squeezing again. 

“Shortly after I started feeding from you.”

“Ah. Is this..oh, you’re really on me, aren’t you?” He’d tried to move his hips but knocked into her body instead. They both winced. 

“You pulled me here,” she said, starting to push herself up and back towards the other end of the couch, but Draco held her tightly. 

“Did you, er…?” 

“A little bit. Did you?” 

“Yes. More than a little bit.” 

Amber and plum. Forsythia jerked and met Blaise’s eyes over her shoulder. He was blushing, eyebrows raised and body frozen mid step. 

“Well, I can see that I’ve interrupted a rather private moment.” 

“Blaise-,” Draco didn’t remove his hands from her, didn’t even bother to hide what they’d just done. Then again, Forsythia wasn’t even sure how long he’d been standing there in the first place. She pressed her lips together in a firm line and shifted so Draco could see past her shoulder, too. 

“No, no need to explain,  _ sir _ . I came to let you know that Potter wasn’t in Godric’s Hollow. Some of the boys are staying there just in case he does show up. Shall I bring mine ‘round and we can see where the morning takes us all?” he asked, raising a curious eyebrow as his eyes roamed over where Draco held her. 

“I’m not one to share, Blaise, you know that,” he grumbled, sitting up and tugging Forsythia back down into his chest possessively, “Go get yours, though, I have questions about the bond and Thia’s just as uneducated as we are.” 

Blaise’s eyes were locked on Draco’s hands on her, and Forsythia cleared her throat and sat back until his hands slipped from her and she was sitting back on her heels over his lap.

Draco let her go, though his hands lingered on the tops of her thighs. Blaise also cleared his throat, blushed again and said he’d be right back. 

As soon as he’d gone, Draco let out a soft laugh, relieved. They shifted as he cast a quiet scourgifying charm. 

He turned his head towards the entrance of the tent, tilted it slightly, then summoned her mask and tossed it to her, “Put that on, just in case somebody less understanding shows up without knocking first.” 

Forsythia settled the mask over her face, meeting his exuberant expression before rolling her eyes at him. 

“Well, I for one, am completely famished after all that. Want to sit with me while I eat?” 

They were just starting to stand when there was a shout from outside, then the front door was ripped open and the entire tent went black.

Forsythia fell back as Draco shot out from under her, shouting spells and telling her to go to the bedroom. There wasn’t time, though, she couldn’t see or do anything more than jerk to cover her head as a spell went sizzling over her. 

There was a streak of red light, a shout that sounded like Draco calling for her again, though only half of her name made it out of his mouth, and then nothing. She tried to focus, to hear and smell him but whatever had darkened the tent was blocking out everything around her. 

A strong hand closed around her upper arm and in the middle of Draco apparating with her somebody else grabbed onto her other hand. She tried to pull it away, yanked over and over but they wouldn’t let go. She could feel Draco’s hand starting to slip, heard him swear and shout in rage as she slipped another inch from him. 

Something slid against her thigh, and she felt the weight of her wand-turned-knife slip into its sheath, then Draco was gone. She fell backwards, the pressure of apparating crushing her so hard that she hoped it would just splinch her into too many pieces to survive. 

Whoever had their hand in hers was also starting to slip, and the ground came up fast as she slammed face first in long grass, coughing and wheezing as the air was knocked completely out of her. She bounced, the bright sky visible in a flash of blue and then darkness once more as she tumbled onto her face again. 

Forsythia could barely move, the wound in her chest splitting through her mind as she cried out from the force of it. Maybe she had been splinched. There was another shout, then nothing as she was stunned into unconsciousness.


	16. Chapter 16

“This is taking forever, just splash it with some water.” 

“Honestly, Ron, I don’t think that’ll work.” 

“Fine, I’ll do it. Aguamenti!” 

A very cold jet of water hit Forsythia in the face. She jerked backwards and sputtered, swearing as she tried to blink the water from her eyes. Her hands were bound tightly behind her back, and as she shifted realized she was sat in a chair. 

A rush of fear went through her. Was she finally in the same position as the people she’d been interrogating had been in? Was she about to be tortured? 

Multiple scents hit her all at once; rose, firewood, cherry, water lily, parchment, wheat grass, and something minty. It was hard to keep her head straight with so many rushing through her. However, with them drowning her the fear ebbed. 

“Ah, see. It’s awake!” 

Forsythia managed to clear her eyes enough to look blearily around. She was in a dark tent, the only light that filtered in was from in front of her and it made it very hard to make out any of the three people standing before her. Not an interrogation room. Just a tent. Her fear slipped further away. It was just humans around her, and none of them had hurt her, exactly. Not yet, anyways. 

“I think it’s nicer to call her a ‘she’, Ron.” That voice, she knew that voice. 

She squinted hard, “Can you close the tent? The sun..you know...” she said, squeezing her eyes closed and shifting to turn her face away from the light. 

“Oh, right,” the familiar voice said. 

“Hermione, wait, what if that’s a trap?” Another voice said, and two of the figures broke away the third and then the light was cut.

“What about closing the door would be a trap, Ronald? Sunlight hurts Vampires.” 

“Thank you.” 

That made all of them freeze. “You’re welcome.” 

As her eyes adjusted, Forsythia could make out the girl from before, Hermione Granger. She looked much better, her bushy hair braided back and her face clean and pink. Her jaw was set, but Forsythia could see there was some amount of uncertain pity in her expression. The rest of her fear vanished. Innately, she knew they wouldn’t hurt her. It was something in their body language; if she didn’t attack neither would they. 

“You know her?” A boy next to her asked. He was much taller than her, closer to Draco’s height, with a mess of red hair and a face full of freckles. She couldn’t help but stare open mouthed at him, grateful that her mask didn’t shock her. 

“Yes, she’s the one..she was there at Oak Grove. She bit me.” 

“On second thought, let’s kill her. We can send her body to Malfoy Mansion with a nice big bow.” Even being threatened by him, Forsythia couldn’t stop staring. Even if he was taller, he still reminded her instantly of Fred. 

“Ron Weasley?” she asked, her voice shaking anxiously. His nose turned up as he met her stare, then his expression fell. He blinked at her, eyes going wide as the color drained from his face, “Bloody hell.” 

“Do  _ you _ know her?” Hermione demanded, looking between the two of them in confusion. “Yeah, I do. Blimey, Forsythia, everyone thought you were dead.” 

The room went silent. 

“Forsythia Black?” 

The third person, and the one she’d already guessed was there if Ron and Hermione were, asked. He was in a black hoodie and jeans, his wand held between both hands. The lightning scar was covered by his shaggy hair, which stuck out at odd angles like he’d just woken up from a nap. 

She nodded weakly, “Hiya, Harry.” 

“She was apparating with Malfoy?” Hermione asked, shooting a glance at Harry. 

He nodded, not taking his eyes off of hers, “They were in a tent together at the Death Eater’s camp in Hatfield Forest.” 

Ron looked offended, “So you snog my brother in a broom cupboard then go to Malfoy? What kind of taste in men do you even have?” he demanded, looking genuinely angry with her. 

Forsythia took a deep breath, “I’ll explain if you give me a moment to get my bearings.” 

Hermione’s jaw clenched then relaxed, “We should let her talk. She was, honestly, very kind to me at Oak Grove.” 

Ron scoffed but collapsed into a bunk bed across the room from them, resigned, it seemed to letting her speak. 

“Thank you,” she said, meeting Hermione’s eyes before looking at Harry. He nodded, also looking resigned. It was easier to look at Hermione, so she met her eyes again, “This started a few years ago.” 

She went through everything, starting from when the Prophet reported her dead to how somebody, Hermione confirmed it was Ron and Harry, had attacked their camp and taken her when Draco tried to apparate them away. 

She rushed through the details of their more personal relationship, and didn’t mention Rosier at all, but pushed the fact that if she didn’t have a supply of blood and Draco was kept away from her for too long that the entire plan to break the Vampire contracts would fail and Harry would probably fail, too. 

“Fail? Don’t you understand what I’ve been doing the last three years?” Harry snapped at her, his eyes burning. She shrunk away from him, “No, I don’t. I told you, I had no contact with the wizarding world after I was turned.” 

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” Ron demanded, standing again and pacing aggressively around the tent. Only Hermione looked curious instead of angry with her. “You said  _ Draco _ was part of the reason why the Order members who were taken are still alive? We thought that was just Snape.” 

“Draco made sure Severus would have access to the Order members that ended up in our division. We-I did everything I could not to hurt anybody. You have to understand.” She pleaded, still trying to get her hands into a more comfortable position. Slowly, Hermione nodded, “I understand. You kept my parents safe even after I told you where they were,” she shuddered, “so I think the only option is to trust you.” 

Both Harry and Ron exploded, shouting over each other and making Forsythia shrink further away from them both. Fear was seeping through her, and there was a moment where she was terrified she was about to frenzy. Hermione saw her face, though, and snapped at the men to shut it, which they did begrudgingly. 

“She could have killed me and she didn’t. I have Veritaserum in my bag, Harry, we can give her some and be done with it.” 

Harry scowled, ran his hand back through his already disastrous hair, but did as she’d said. Once the truth serum was in Hermione’s hand, she took a nervous step towards Forsythia, “Please don’t make me force you to take this,” she whispered. 

“I’m fine, I’ll do whatever it takes. We were trying to help you, I swear.” Forsythia felt frantic still and was starting to shake from the stress. 

“How do you take the mask off? Harry accidentally touched it when you were apparating and it shocked him.” 

“I have to take it off, or Draco can. I think we’re the only ones other than the healer at Oak Grove.” Hermione froze, still mid step. 

Ron spoke before she could, “Oh yeah, fat chance we’re untying you.” 

“You can keep your wands on my neck the whole time I do it. I swear I won’t hurt any of you. Seriously, I want to prove I’m telling the truth.” 

It took another several minutes of the three of them squabbling before they did as she’d said. Three wand tips touched her throat and then the ropes binding her fell free. Slowly, her eyes locked on Hermione’s, she reached up and lifted the mask from her face. 

Hermione’s eyes widened, “You have runes burned into your face!” she cried, staggering backward half a step. Forsythia’s brow furrowed, “What? Oh..yeah I sort of went through a period where I forced the mask to shock me over and over while I starved myself because I felt awful for being mean to Draco’s house elf, Hisky. Also because torturing people is really not my forte.” She reached up and ran her fingers over her skin. 

Sure enough, she felt the edges of her burnt skin and then the too tight tug of the skin just past the edges. She let her hand fall away, shivering as the mark she’d just touched tingled warningly. 

The three of them blinked at her, and Hermione dropped her wand immediately. “I trust her. Veritaserum or not. Anybody who respects house elves enough to feel that badly after being rude to one just can’t be a bad person.” 

Ron and Harry both rolled their eyes at their companion, but kept their wands on Forsythia, “Throw the mask away,” Harry said, jerking his head to indicate which direction he wanted her to toss it in.

  
“Gladly,” she said, equally cold as she let the mask fall with a dull clatter. The ropes were re-summoned and Hermione stepped forward again, looking sympathetic as she unstoppered the bottle, “I’m really sorry about this, but it’s the only way they’ll trust you.” 

“I know,” Forsythia responded, “it’s really okay. I would do the same if I was in your position.” 

Ron scoffed at her, but Hermione had her tip her head back enough to allow two drops of the truth serum to drip into her mouth before she could tell him off for being an arse. At first, nothing happened, and then Forsythia’s vision went blurry around the edges and she was only vaguely aware of the questions being asked of her. 

They went through the story again, only this time Harry and Ron led the way through it. They asked if she had lied about being in contact with wizards, to which she said no. Then they asked if she had willingly gone with the Death Eaters.  _ No _ . 

Was she under the imperius curse?  _ No _ . Had she really snogged Fred in the broom cupboard under the marble staircase at Hogwarts. _ Yes, and shagged for nearly an hour _ . Was Malfoy using her?  _ No _ . Was it seriously a full hour with Fred?  _ Yes, please don’t make me answer that again.  _ Did she really believe Draco was telling her the truth about wanting to help Harry?  _ Yes.  _ Did she mean them any harm?  _ No. _ Did she have Stockholm Syndrome?  _ No..well, maybe. Unsure.  _ Was her bond with Draco already complete?

The last question came from Hermione who looked concerned. “I’ve..well I’ve read about it, the bonding. When Kingsley told us that’s what was happening I wanted to learn more about it. It’s not..well it’s not a very light situation.” 

Forsythia took a deep breath, “Yes, I believe it has started to. I’ve been with him for almost six months all together. He fought it, at first, then after we interrogated Lupin he told me he didn’t want to fight anymore. That was before I got sent to Rosier, but I killed him so that doesn’t matter now.” 

So much for keeping that secret. 

“You killed Rosier?” 

“He tried to rape me, what else was I supposed to do?” 

Harry looked at her, then looked up at Hermione, “You’re sure it works on Vampires?” 

Hermione nodded once, “It works on any creature that can consciously speak. I’m certain of it.” With a sharp wave of her wand, Hermione banished the ropes holding Forsythia hostage. 

“Did you say that  _ you  _ killed Rosier?” Ron asked, sizing her up incredulously. 

Forsythia nodded, “Yep, with my bare hands. Didn’t even bite him. Brought him ‘round the interrogation floor and waited for somebody to find me with his body. Good bit of fun, really.” 

Nobody looked as amused as she felt, and Forsythia cleared her throat before getting comfortable once more. 

“So..what now?” She asked, staying seated as she crossed her legs and then her arms. She bent to pick the forgotten mask up from where she’d dropped it and set it on her knee. The three of them looked at each other, seemingly at a loss. 

“Well,” started Hermione, “we didn’t exactly think that you would be so forthcoming with the truth. I thought you’d try to fight the serum, actually.” 

“Ah, so you intended to keep me hostage until…?” she prompted. 

Ron went bright red, and Harry spoke instead, “Until Malfoy came for you. We were going to use you as bait to get to him.” 

“Why?”

“His..Bellatrix Lestrange tortured Hermione, didn’t she? Had to make it an even playing field,” snapped Ron.

She gaped at them, “You were planning on using Draco to get to his aunt? I thought you were on some important mission to kill The Dark Lord?” 

Harry and Hermione joined Ron in turning various shades of pink. “Well..we’ve sort of already mostly completed the mission. We just need a way to get He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named out of hiding.”

Forsythia raised an eyebrow, “You do realize I know where he is, don’t you? Or at least where he was.” 

They stayed silent, and she was amused watching the color drain back down from their faces, “He’s at Oak Grove. I’ve met him there. He..well he was the one who assigned me to Draco, specifically.” It was almost laughable watching their eyes grow wide. 

“You’ve seen him, then? In person?” Harry asked, searching her face like he was waiting for her to tell him she was just joking. “I have. It’s rather unpleasant. He smells very bad.” 

None of them laughed, and Forsythia wondered if they were capable of understanding jokes at this point. “Anyways,” she continued, “if all you need to do is lure him out then use me and Draco.” 

“What?” The three of them spoke in unison. 

Forsythia scowled, “Did you practice that? I have a feeling you did.” 

When they all just looked confused, she huffed out a sigh, “Use me as bait, like you said. Send Draco a howler or something, oh, maybe my patronus, to tell him that you’ll kill me and you want to start the war properly. We can all meet up at Diagon Alley, or the streets of London for all I care, and then get on our merry way once you kill The Dark Lord.” 

Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked completely beside themselves. It looked like none of them knew which question to ask first, and Forsythia looked between them for several minutes before Hermione, who looked the least confused, asked, “You can produce a patronus?” 

“I haven’t tried in a while, but I’m sure I could. Did you take my knife? That’s actually my wand. Since everyone thought I was dead the Ministry never logged my existence so they didn’t snap my wand. Though I’m very sure as soon as The Dark Lord is destroyed I will have to hand it over.” 

“Your knife..is your wand?” Ron asked, looking like he’d been hit with an obliviate. She nodded, then Hermione looked taken aback, “Oh my god. I should have known the second I saw it.  _ Of course!”  _

She crossed the room to the tiny kitchenette and picked up the knife from the table. As soon as it was back in Forsythia’s hand, it transfigured back. She sighed happily, feeling much more like herself now that it was back in her hand. The wand hummed in her hand, like it was happy to see her, too. 

“Great. Now..what is it? Expecto Patronum?” she asked, nodding along with herself when Harry told her it was. 

“This is a bit strange, isn’t it? Me, my ex-boyfriend’s little brother, his two best mates, planning how to save the world as we know it,” she mused, then blinked rapidly, “How long does this truth serum work for?” she asked, watching Hermione worriedly. The witch bit her lip, “Should wear off in about twenty minutes. Sorry.” 

Forsythia shrugged, “No matter, I’m usually truthful anyways. Alright, shall I give it a go?” she asked. 

Harry spoke up, “Do you know how to cast it? I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but you barely look seventeen.” 

“I’m twenty-three, thank you very much. Professor Flitwick taught me the patronus charm when I was a third year,” she snapped back at him, rolling her eyes when he looked shocked. Now, all she had to do was think of a happy memory. She closed her eyes, humming quietly as she tried to pin one down. There was always drinking firewhiskey with Bernadette but that didn’t feel strong enough. 

Draco’s face swam in her mind and it felt like her wand started to vibrate just at the prospect of having something strong enough to cast the patronus. 

“Oh-,” Hermione cut Harry off with a very loud “Shh!”. Forsythia opened her eyes to find her wand emitting a faint mist from its end. 

Her mouth quirked to the side, and she shut her eyes again and remembered being on the couch with Draco earlier in the morning. The way his hand felt on her waist and on the back of her head as he led her back to his neck. How he’d stiffened under her as she drank and the apple taste in his blood when he’d been aroused by her rubbing her tongue against the wound. Not to mention the other thing they’d gotten up to. 

It felt like a painless sunshine fell upon her, and when she opened her eyes, her black mare was pawing eagerly at the ground and rearing up, nearly tall enough to pass through the ceiling of the tent.

“Hello, gorgeous,” she whispered, reaching out to touch the dark mass of the horse’s mane once it came back on all four of its feet. The horse knickered, pressing its warm nose into her hand. “Wow,” Hermione said, blinking in disbelief. “You didn’t even say..she didn’t even..,” Ron trailed off, staring, too, like he didn’t believe what he saw. 

“That’s right, I do remember you. You had private lessons with Professor Flitwick.” She met Hermione’s eyes and tried to blink away the tears that had formed there at the sight of her patronus. Slowly, the horse disappeared with another knicker, and she and Hermione smiled at each other.

Forsythia grinned, “Don’t forget champion of the dueling club. It would have been fun if you three’d been there, too. Then maybe I wouldn’t have been the one to win the trophies.” She said, the warmth from the patronus slowly dissipated as well. 

Harry let out a short laugh, “Yeah, as if we’d had time for that.” Forsythia shrugged, “I was just saying. Obviously I know that you all were very busy doing whatever it was that you got up to.” She could feel the truth serum starting to waver, now, and it was a comfort to not say every little thing that popped into her mind. Especially since her mind was with Draco again, the bond urging her to get back to him. 

“So, I can do it. What shall I say to him? That I’m being tortured and he needs to come find me somewhere?” she asked. The three others looked at each other again, “Uh..maybe we should give it another day or so, you know, not make it seem too set up.” 

“Another day?”

“You’ve been unconscious for three. My stunner was a little too heavy handed,” Ron said sheepishly. 

She balked at him, suddenly worried how Draco would be when she returned. This was the second time she’d been taken from him. Not wanting to share this information again with the trio, she soldiered on. 

“Wait, why are we lying about it? I can just explain what’s happened and how you all know the plan with the contracts and then I can go back to Draco before I start going through withdrawal. We can send our communications through patronus so they’re not intercepted and plan from there!” 

“You really want to get back to him, don’t you?” Hermione’s voice was soft. 

She nodded, “I’m sorry, I..believe me, if I wasn’t like this, I would..I would stay longer. I haven’t been around..oh..,” her mind stopped dead in its tracks. 

She was going to say she hadn’t been around anyone from school other than Draco and the boys in their Harry Hunting party in a long time, but then Hannah Abbott’s ashen face popped into the forefront of her mind and she nearly fainted. 

“What’s wrong, do you need blood? What’s going on?” Hermione had rushed forward to grab onto her and keep her from toppling out of the chair. “N-No..I..Hannah Abbott. Is she okay? I..oh god,” she whimpered, clinging the chair and letting Hermione hold her up. If Hannah had died, Forsythia didn’t know what she’d do with herself. 

“Hannah? Hannah’s fine, she’s fine, just relax, everything’s okay.” 

She was okay. She’d lived. Forsythia let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding and she let herself slump forward more. 

-*-

“What about Lee Jordan?” Hermione had made her a cup of tea and fifteen minutes later they were all sitting around the tiny kitchen table, Hermione in Ron's lap much to Forsythia’s surprise. “Hiding out at Fred and George’s flat. M’brother Percy is in St Mungo’s still but he’s fine.” Ron responded. 

The blur of red hair and horn rimmed glasses from her first interrogation with Rosier flitted through her mind, but she squished the memory and forced herself to remain present. He’d lived, too. She hadn’t killed him. Not him, not Hannah, hopefully not anybody else she couldn’t remember other than Rosier. 

“Remus is at Grimmauld place,” Harry answered for her before she could ask, “Kingsley, too. You said he attacked you?” 

“Yeah, I think he tried to slash my throat open. It wouldn’t have killed me or anything, but I understand his position.” They all looked surprised at her words. 

“What?” she asked, glancing around at them. 

“Well..the other Vampires we’ve come into contact with. They’re not as  _ human _ as you are,” Hermione explained, shrugging. Forsythia snorted, “Yeah because you’ve probably met a ton of geezers. The older we get I think the less and less we maintain our humanity. I’m not sure, though, most of them can’t remember what it was like to be my age anymore. I guess living for more than six hundred years will do that to a person.” 

That earned her a couple of tired looking smiles. It was better than three wands to the throat, she’d give them that. She looked at Harry again, meeting his eyes curiously, “You said Lupin is at Grimmauld place? Is..Is Sirius there, too?” 

Harry nodded, a smile warming his face, “Yeah, they’re together. I could, er, send word that you’re alive, if you’d like. Did you ever know him?”

Forsythia gave him a sad smile, “Not really. I suppose now he’s the only family I have, though. We’re third cousins once removed on my father’s side. I think there’s a photo somewhere in my family’s estate of him holding me as a baby.” She tried to remember back if that was true or if the photo she’d seen was of Sirius with some other cousin of theirs. Then again, it wasn’t as if she could go back to the estate, not as she was now. 

“I’ll send him word, then. I’m sure he’d be excited to meet a Black who wasn’t all bad.” That made her grin. No, she wasn’t  _ all _ bad. 

She turned to Ron next, skewering him with her eyes after thanking Harry, “You, Ronald Weasley, are a strange, sick man. You asked me  _ twice _ about Fred. Why?” she demanded. 

Ron sank back, going red again, “Well what was I supposed to think? It’s not like I believed him when he said…”

Hermione looked embarrassed on her behalf, “Your brother told you he’d been with a girl and you wanted to know  _ more? _ Honestly, Ron, you’re so daft.” 

Forsythia snorted at them, “How is he, anyways?”

Ron gulped, “Fred’s alright. With George, and like I said, Lee, at their flat in Diagon Alley. Joke Shop’s going good. Although, these days theirs is one of the only places in Diagon Alley that’s still open. Most people have closed down on account of all the Death Eaters wandering around.” 

“Maybe when this is all over I could, er, cash that raincheck I took on visiting you all at the Burrow?” she asked, wincing at inviting herself. 

Ron gulped again, “Er, yeah, yeah sure. I think that mum would be glad to know you’re alright.” 

He turned to Hermione, “Did you say you’d gotten sandwiches?” Their conversation drifted. 

They spent the rest of the night somewhat awkwardly catching up, the three of them filling Forsythia in on details she’d missed while figuring herself out. They’d never talked during school, but for some reason she could tell they were all making a very big effort to make her feel welcome. 

They regaled her with stories of finding and destroying horcruxes, which Hermione explained to her were objects Voldemort had put pieces of his soul into to cheat death. They’d gone all over Britain to find them, destroying them with basilisk fangs and the sword of gryffindor. It was such a whirlwind that once they’d gotten her caught up they fell into a comfortable silence, all reeling from the tale. 

-*-

Much later in the evening, around two a.m. if her watch was still counting correctly, she looked up to find Hermione curled against Ron’s chest half-asleep while he rubbed her back. Harry was watching a battered snitch flit around an inch above the tabletop, his eyes burning like he was trying to make it catch fire with his mind. Their comfortable silence had stretched into at least an hour, and she guessed that was her cue to leave. 

Forsythia cleared her throat awkwardly, “Well, as much as I appreciate your hospitality, and your tea, thank you, I should probably get back to Draco. Who knows what fresh hell has broken loose.” 

They all seemed reluctant to let her leave, but she held up her pinky to Hermione, “Come on, I’ll pinky swear that I’ll send my patronus to you as soon as I explain the plan,” she said with a grin. 

Ron looked deeply confused, but both Harry and Hermione returned her grin, and held up their pinkies, too, “Okay. But we..the entire world, really, is putting it’s trust in you to get the message to him, okay?” Hermione said, looking suddenly very serious. 

“Me, give up a chance to help destroy the darkest wizard ever lived? Not a chance in hell, it’s my pleasure. Besides, me and Harry are god-sibling-cousins of some kind, I’m sure, so I owe it as a family favor.” That made Harry’s smile widen, “I always wanted a sister of sorts, if I’m honest. You’re a right lot better than Dudley ever was.” Even though she didn’t have a clue who he was talking about, Forsythia felt proud nonetheless. 

With that, they all linked their pinkies together, and Forsythia stepped just outside the mouth of their tent. They were in a dark wood, though it looked vastly different from the one she’d been in with Draco; more pine trees, more dusty snow. She turned back to look at Hermione, “Uh, right, so where are we?” 

“Oh, we’re in Scotland. About forty miles into the mountains to the north of Hogwarts. Do you know where you’re going or do you want to send word to Draco and have him come here to get you?” she asked. Forsythia shrugged, then grinned, “I think I’d rather give him the scare of his life, actually. Thank you, though. I appreciate the thought.” 

Destination, determination, deliberation, or whatever it was to apparate, she thought to herself with a smirk. After slipping the mask back over her face, Forsythia turned on the spot, envisioning herself in the back garden of the rowhouse. 


	17. Chapter 17

The moment her feet connected with the soft grass in the garden, all hell did indeed break loose. One moment, she was straightening her top and facing the back wall, and the next Hisky was hitting her about the shins with a frying pan the size of her head screeching for Draco because there was an intruder. In her haste, Forsythia tripped over herself and fell to the ground.

“Ow! Hisky, it’s me, it’s Thia -ouch- wait a second!” She shrieked, trying to cover her face as the elf kept swinging blindly at her. The elf wasn’t letting up, still screeching over her cries as pain blossomed in her hands where the pan connected with her. 

There was a loud crack from just inside the house then, and Draco’s shocked voice made them both freeze, “Forsythia?” 

Her stomach dropped. 

Hisky stood back to look at her face and immediately broke into tears, threw the pan aside, and wrapped her arms around Forsythia’s neck as tightly as she could manage. Forsythia hugged her right back, genuinely very pleased to see and be with the little elf again. She hadn’t realized that she’d missed her dearly until that moment. 

She could take a few seconds to hold Hisky before she turned her attention to Draco. After all, she didn’t know how things between them would be so prolonging their reunion wasn’t too taxing. What if since she’d been gone he’d decided to regret what they’d done in his tent? The memory of him grinding up into her and gasping against her ear made her stomach drop again while a very warm rush of arousal made her shudder. 

“Oh, Miss Thia, Miss Thia! She is home, Master Draco, she is home!” Hisky wailed so loud Forsythia worried she’d be heard even over any silencing charms that were put up around the garden. 

“I was only gone for a few days,” she choked, though she fought off tears of her own as the elf clung to her. The joy that filled her was immeasurable. 

Slowly, Hisky released her neck and offered her hand, helping her back to her feet and then rushing inside with her frying pan while she shouted over her shoulder that she would get a potion ready. 

_ Time to face the angry dragon _ , she thought to herself with a wince. There was no use in prolonging it, afterall he’d probably just reject her and they’d go back to being polite but cold towards each other. Or at least that was what she told herself. 

Forsythia slipped her mask off, tossed it somewhere across the garden and turned to him, waiting for the silence to break. A quick glance over him would have made her heart squeeze. 

Draco looked too pale, like he’d just seen a ghost, the moonlight reflecting silver off of his scars and hair. His hands were gripped into fists at his sides, a particularly cruel scar that broke the smooth line of the tendons in the back of his left hand glimmered as his grip tightened.

It was his eyes, though, that made that cold, still space in her chest nearly flicker to life. They were fiercely burning bright silver, too many emotions passing behind them for her to keep track of. Regardless, the intensity in which he fixed his gaze on her reminded her immediately of the tent again, and she felt the pull to break the silence before it had a chance to turn awkward. 

“Hi. Sorry I took so long getting back.” she said, folding her arms over her chest and staying rooted to the ground. Even though a moment ago, she’d thought he longed for her, things certainly felt different now. 

Before she left Harry, Ron, and Hermione, she’d joked that she wanted to give him the scare of his life. Now, it seemed she truly had, and it made her feel guilty. Maybe she should have sent her patronus first, that way he would have been more prepared for her arrival. Forsythia cursed herself and chewed on her lower lip anxiously. What if, in her haste to get back to him, she’d put him off? 

“What happened? Where did you..oh fuck, I don’t even care, come here,” He said, sounding relieved, He dropped down from the top step and took two long strides across the garden towards her, his eyes burning now with determined anguish. It looked like he couldn’t hold himself back from going to her, and she didn’t want to hold herself back from him, either. 

Forsythia shot forward, her earlier worries gone from her, and met him halfway before collapsing into his arms and his scent. Everything was fine, he was fine, she was back with him. Nothing had changed. The bond surged between them like warmth from a fire. 

Now that she was with him she was safe. 

Draco held her tightly to him, even lifted her up into his arms and then held her tighter. “I’m sorry, I wanted to send word, I was unconscious for a little while, but I’m fine, I’m okay,” she said against his shoulder, letting the tears flow freely now. Being there in his arms felt like being completely encased in her patronus, and she refused to let him go until he took hold of her shoulders and moved her back only enough to look her over. 

“What happened? You’re not hurt are you?” 

“No I’m fine, I just..I just need to rest for a moment.” 

“I’ll accompany you upstairs.” 

Draco released her shoulders, taking her hand instead, and led her inside, through the kitchen, and straight up to her room where he sat down into a chair by the bookshelf. When she tried to collapse into the chair opposite him, his hand tightened on hers. He shook his head and guided her to sit on his lap, sounding shy as he asked if it would be okay. She accepted, though she felt rather shy herself, and allowed him to help her down.

His arms encircled her, clutching her to him while Forsythia, still a bit cautious, let him steer her sideways into his chest. There was a soft stirring of her hair against her neck, and she tilted her head forward so his lips rested against her hair. Draco sighed appreciatively. 

He flicked his wand at the empty grate and a fire roared to life. She looped her arms around his neck and pressed her nose into his collar while the light from the flames danced in front of her closed eyes. It felt like she could breathe again, like she was whole. 

Guilt struck her once more; he’d clearly been worried about her. Why else would he have her tucked in his lap with his chin lips on her hair and his arms locked around her? He rubbed her back like he needed to physically remind himself she was there and real, and the heat from the fire almost made it feel like she was blushing. 

-*-

Softly, after she’d taken the potion from Hisky, Forsythia recounted the last few days for him. It was a quick story, since the first three days she’d been unconscious. Draco listened, a thoughtful, closed expression on his face while she spoke. Several minutes after she stopped talking, he sneered up at the ceiling, “ _ Potter _ .” He said the name like it was a curse. 

Forsythia shivered, “Are  _ you _ okay?” 

He nodded once though he didn’t answer her question, “If all they need is for The Dark Lord to be lured out, then we can make that happen. I- shit-,” he gasped, nearly knocking her off his lap in his haste to shove his left sleeve up. Draco grabbed her waist and jerked her off of him as he stood so she was alone in her chair. He’d flipped so quickly from being annoyed to being anxious that Forsythia froze where he’d left her. 

  
“I have to go. Stay here with Hisky. Send word to Potter that I’ll get started on figuring out how to bring The Dark Lord out.  _ Stay here _ .” 

Well, they hadn’t broken the contract with their affections. She felt tied to the rowhouse instantly, knowing instinctively that she wouldn’t be able to leave because of his command. 

Right as he turned to go, Draco paused, crossed back over the room to where he’d set her in the chair on her own, and fleetingly pressed his lips to the top of her head.

“I’m very relieved that you are back with me.” 

He disappeared with another very loud crack. 

She was wrong, something  _ had  _ changed. Dazed, Forsythia reached up and brushed her fingers over where he’d kissed, his lingering warmth making her skin tingle. 

Summoning a patronus now would probably be the easiest spell she’d ever cast. 

Once she pulled her wand out and practiced the movement, her patronus burst forth with a flash of cool light. The black mare did a nice extended trot around the room and threw her head as Forsythia stood and approached her, “Go to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Tell them I’ve made it back and the plan is on. I’ll reach out again when D-..when he knows more.” The mare lowered her head, gave a deep sigh, and disappeared with another burst of light. 

Even though she knew patronus messages could not be intercepted, she thought it best to keep Draco’s name out of everything. At least if somehow it was caught, whoever intercepted it wouldn’t be able to know exactly who she was talking about. 

Forsythia went back downstairs and started calling for Hisky when she couldn’t find her right away, anxiety coursing through her at an all time high. She couldn’t tolerate being alone. 

The elf popped out of the pantry looking worried, “Miss Thia? Is something wrong?” Hisky asked, her green eyes wide. 

“No, I just..I couldn’t find you and I got worried I was alone.” 

“You is not alone here, Miss Thia.” 

She smiled down at the elf, who returned her smile and then her eyes lit up, “Oh! Miss Thia, Master Draco got Hisky a new cookbook while you was away. Come see!” and with that, she took Forsythia's hand and led her into the study. 

They sat on the floor together, Hisky going through and telling her which recipes she was most excited for. It was peaceful sitting there with the elf and simply being in her presence. She was like a friend, and Forsythia was glad to have her company.

-*-

Draco returned well past four in the morning. He looked exhausted and still too pale for her liking. 

“Hisky, can you help Draco find something to eat? I want him to have something before we go to bed.” The little elf bowed, “Hisky will prepare something, Miss Thia.” And with that, apparated back to the kitchen. 

“Are you alright? You look pale.” she said, unsure if she should embrace him again or not. Draco answered her unspoken question as he pulled her against his chest with his right arm and breathed deeply against her hair, “Better, now that I’m with you. Are you really going to make me wait to eat something before I’m allowed to take you upstairs?”

Her stomach swooped, and she was certain if it was possible her heart would have skipped a beat. 

“Er, yes?” 

“And that’s a command, then?” 

There was a hint of a smirk on his face as she pulled away to look up at him. Forsythia nodded, grinning as the bond forced its way into control, “Yep. Otherwise you might not have the energy for what I have planned for you.” 

His face went blank, “What?” It was incredibly amusing to watch his pupils dilate as the possibilities whirled through his mind.

When she shook her head and mimed zipping her lips, Draco looked more frantic, “No, tell me what you mean, what do you have planned?” he demanded, locking his arm around her lower back and dragging her hips forward into his. Forsythia couldn’t help but gasp; he was already getting aroused. She hadn’t even  _ done _ anything. Why was he so easy for her to rile up? Forsythia thanked the bond. 

“Master Draco!” called Hisky, and he gave her a look that very clearly said ‘we’ll continue this conversation once I’m done eating’ before disappearing into the kitchen. She waited, perched on the chair in the study until, almost twenty minutes later, Draco came strolling in with his sleeves pushed up and his cloak gone. The color was back in his cheeks, though his eyes positively burned as they fell on her. She could only stare at him for a moment, overcome by how handsome he looked. 

He ran his hand back through his hair and smirked, “Are you checking me out?” he asked, eyes narrowing on her suspiciously. She nodded, then pressed her lips together when it dawned on her that she should surely be a little more embarrassed. To be honest, she hadn’t actually planned anything, but it was a very fun game to play with him. Besides, letting his mind run wild was equally as fun. 

“Shall we, then? Unless part of your plan is sitting in the drawing room until the sun rises?” he prompted. Forsythia shook her head and slowly stood, but he was faster than she was. Draco scooped her back into his arms and carried her all the way upstairs and, instead of turning left into her room, turned right into his. 

After dumping her down onto his bed, he paused, “I suppose you’re the one with the plan. What did you want to do then?”

Seeing as she hadn’t gotten that far, Forsythia sat up on her knees and reached out for him. She was cautious, moving extra slow like she used to in order to make sure he could watch her thoroughly. Even without a plan, she knew she wanted to be close with him but she also didn’t want to catch him off guard so soon after seeing Voldemort. He’d been holding his left arm a bit weird, too, so she didn’t want to hurt him. 

“What?” he asked, taking a step closer and then guiding her arms around his neck. 

“Is your arm okay?” 

“It’s..sore. When he calls me and he’s particularly angry it is rather uncomfortable.” 

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to do anything if it’s hurting you too badly.” 

Draco cocked an eyebrow as he draped his right arm around the middle of her back, “You’re a tease,” he said flatly.

She patted his shoulder in an attempt to be casual, “I’m serious. Besides, we probably shouldn’t break the contract tonight, right?”

That made him tilt his head side to side like he was physically weighing the options. “No, probably not.” 

“I’d like to feed, if that’s alright. I missed you.” 

A smile ghosted over his face like he was remembering what had gone on the last time she’d bit him, “And I, you. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d lost you, Forsythia.” His smile had faded, those gray eyes hard and serious.

She met his eyes in disbelief. “Was that you or the bond?” 

“Me.” 

Forsythia felt her entire body go warm like she’d stepped into a hot bath. He’d missed her, seemingly just as she’d missed him, and it  _ wasn’t  _ the bond making him say something she’d like to hear. No, it was him, really him. Her heart threatened to start beating again. 

His expression flashed possessively as he let his hand slip lower to her hip, “Will you at least tell me what you had planned?” 

Forsythia shook her head, “No way, then I won’t be able to use it later.” 

He rolled his eyes but carefully leaned forward and rested his lips against her forehead, “Let’s go to bed, then. I really didn’t like sleeping without you.” 

The spot where he’d kissed her tingled with his lingering warmth just as it had when he’d kissed her earlier and he pulled away and then slid down next to her on his back. 

“Will you be comfortable if you sleep in your clothes?” she asked.

“I’ll be fine, just come here.” 

He scooted her to his chest and held her tightly, his face turned away from her so she had free access to his neck. “I’ll only take a little, and I promise I won’t tease anymore,” she whispered before she leaned in and, experimentally, rested her lips against his skin. 

Draco tensed then sighed, stretching his head further and whispering back, “Do what you like, I’m all yours.” 

She moved her lips more purposefully against his skin, casually resting her knee sideways over his thighs and exploring him. It was remarkable how sensitive he was to her mouth, and how affected he was by a simple brush of it under his ear or jaw. She could feel each scar and learned quickly which ones he appreciated her kissing and which ones made him twist almost imperceptibly away, like they still pained him. 

It didn’t help, though, that her mind wandered to what it had been like for him to visit Voldemort on his own. Of course, he’d been doing that for years prior to her being in his life. Her protective inclination towards him, though, made her stomach twist painfully at the thought of him being treated violently. 

There was a flash of a gruesome image in her mind, of Draco contorting on the floor while Voldemort sliced his wand through the air at him, screeching  _ crucio _ until he’d had his fill. Of course, Draco gave nothing away, no details of what had gone on during their meeting, but she didn’t like how his heart seemed unsteady in his chest. It stuttered under where her hand rested over it, her fingers splayed out to catch any change in its pace just in case she needed to call for Hisky in case something was truly wrong. 

Instead, she ghosted her lips over him, pausing again in those spots that made his heart flutter until she put two and two together and realized. He wasn’t still recovering from the meeting with Voldemort, he was enjoying what she was doing to him. 

“Thia,” he breathed her name like a sigh of relief, left hand on her knee and right wrapped under her waist and resting over the curve of her hip, “you said you weren’t going to tease.” 

That was true, she reasoned. She only allowed her fangs to prick him enough to start the blood flow. He tensed again as she used her tongue against him the same way she had in the tent almost a week prior. 

“Not breaking the contract my arse,” he groaned quietly. The rush of apple in his blood made Forsythia’s breath shudder against him. Was it truly this easy to arouse him? She’d take it. 

They couldn’t, though. Not when they were so close to actually having a chance at timing this properly. It wasn’t like they were still at school, or like this was a normal relationship that could progress naturally. No, they couldn’t keep going this way, it would only lead to the ruin of their own scheme. 

Although, when Draco’s hand urged her forward just as he nudged his thigh between hers it suddenly didn’t seem like breaking it now would be such a big deal. 

“Eager?” She asked him before sucking crudely on the open wound. All of his breath seemed to leave him and his grip turned to iron on her, “ _ Do it again _ .” The command was clear, and she was more than willing to flick her tongue against him and suck on his neck for as long as he’d let her. 

She felt him shift against her, tasted and felt his arousal heighten as he started to guide her on top of him. Forsythia followed willingly, already rolling her hips against his the same way they’d done in the tent. Nothing had changed; he let her do it, encouraged it, even. 

His left hand slid up her body, gripping her waist then her ribs before he paused just under her breast, “Can I touch you here?” He asked, breathless again as he tapped to indicate where he meant. 

It was rude to talk with a full mouth, so instead she arched her chest forward, nodding gently while Draco raced to get his fingers under her top with his left hand. With his right, he continued urging her to move against his thigh, which she was more than willing to do. While it was not the most physically pleasurable act in that particular position, the idea of what they were doing was arousing enough on its own for the time being. 

Fred had done something similar with her when they had been together, grinding his thigh up against her while she keened and mewled against his neck. The memory made her moan, her breath caught and then moaned again as Draco rested his hand on her breast over her bra. 

“‘S’this alright?” 

She nodded again. Him touching her was much more than alright. The warmth that radiated from him to her was comforting and eased her earlier worry. He was fine, in one piece, there under her as sturdy and steady as ever. 

Draco’s thumb slipped over the top of her bra, curiously stroking while her hips stuttered. She needed more and less as quickly as possible; more of his gentle touching and less clothes between them. 

Quickly, she closed his neck with a swipe of her tongue and pulled her top off, tossing it away before diving back to suck on that spot just under the sharp jut of his jaw, the spot that made the air rush from his lungs. 

“Tease,” he snapped, his hands tightening while his eyes roamed over the skin she’d revealed to him. His right hand slid to hold her other breast, like he was sure she’d keep grinding her center against him. He was right. 

Forsythia shoved at her trousers, desperate now to feel his warmth against her in every place he could reach. She nipped at his earlobe as she kicked them all the way off to join her top wherever it had landed on his floor. 

Much to her displeasure, his hands left her breasts in favor of flipping her down onto her back. He sat back on his knees, arranging her legs to accommodate himself between them. It wasn’t subtle when he looked over her body approvingly, those eyes warm with affection and unmistakably lust. 

“Are you checking me out?” She asked, grinning. Her need for him was quickly rising, her stomach tight for a much more pleasant reason now. 

Draco only raised an eyebrow before he leaned back down to her. She stayed still, letting her eyes blink closed while he pushed her head to the side and kissed her neck the same way she’d done his; curious, exploring, exploiting the places that were most sensitive. Under her ear, the junction of her neck and shoulder, over where her pulse should have been racing for him. 

Her knees pressed sideways into his waist, and this seemed to be a clear sign to him that she was enjoying herself because Draco kissed harder in the spots she liked best. It wasn’t long before he was sneaking his tongue and teeth out in place of his lips. 

Her hands tangled into his hair, grasping and frantic when he pinned her down with his hips. She could feel every inch of him between her legs and against her lower abdomen. Draco’s teeth scraped against her, and time sped up. The next thing she knew, she was dizzyingly aroused, watching the top of Draco’s head as he kissed down her now bare chest while she begged him to use his tongue on her. 

He nodded his assent, “Be patient.” 

“I  _ need _ you.” 

It took no further conversation before his mouth closed over her. Another place for him to explore while she cried out, desperate for more and less again. 

Draco lifted his head, meeting her eyes knowingly, “We can’t do  _ that _ , but I can touch you if you’d like me to.” 

Why had he not offered sooner? Forsythia took his left hand from where he’d been stroking the base of her neck and guided it down, allowing him to stop only once to brush his thumb over her other breast before urging him to where she needed him. 

“Merlin, Thia,” he said, chuckling in disbelief and tugging his shirt up over his head then letting it join hers before reconnecting to everywhere he’d been touching prior to sitting back. Her entire body felt like it was buzzing under him, and as he slipped his hand under her knickers she could have cried with relief. 

“Such a desperate thing, aren’t you? Can you feel how wet you are?” He asked, his voice like velvet. She nodded. Of course she knew, she  _ wanted  _ him. 

It didn’t take him long to figure out what she liked, and she shied away from thinking too hard about how accurate his touch was. He alternated between holding all complete control of her pleasure and easing up so that she could move her hips how she wanted, pleasuring herself under his careful touch and still possessive gaze.

He  _ knew  _ what he was doing to her and he liked it. 

When her belly tightened, she shuddered under him, gasping and moaning his name until it felt like that was all she knew how to say. 

“Are you close?” 

“Y-yes-,” her hips jerked as he slowed, her eyes flying open while her hand shot forward to grab his wrist. 

“Relax, I’m going to let you come.” That smug smirk tugged at his lips as he watched her jerk to lie back again, eyes glinting with mischief and desire. 

Still wide eyed and dizzy, Forsythia’s eyes flew down as he unbuttoned his trousers. His expression flattened as he realized what she thought he was doing. He shook his head and paused, hand hanging off the top of his trousers. 

“Would it be alright if I got  _ myself _ off, too?” He asked, his fingers slipping against her as her arousal spiked. His voice was so breathy, so smooth. Forsythia decided then and there she never wanted him to speak any other way. 

“I could never deny you that.” 

As he reached for himself, he picked up his pace on her once more. All she could do was tip her head back and grunt as pleasure burned through her. She wasn’t as close as she had been, but she knew Draco would get her back to that point. 

Her back arched as he slid his fingers lower, not pressing into her but swirling around lazily to collect her arousal before drifting back up. Forsythia quickly slapped her hand over her mouth before anything more than a wrecked gasp of his name left her. 

“That’s it, darling, I’ve got you, come on.” 

It felt like he’d commanded her. When she inhaled she simply teetered on the edge, and when she exhaled she had to bite her tongue while her knees dug into his waist again as heat that burned so hot it was cold overtook her. The world melted away and they were the only two people in existence.

Something warm dripped over her belly. Instantly she could smell him all around her, apple and something infinitely sweeter like salted caramel. Draco’s mouth was back on her neck, kissing and biting and sighing against her as they both relaxed into each other like they’d never been apart in the first place. It felt like this was how their time in the tent together should have ended. 

-*-

When she could move again, Forsythia reached up and wove her fingers back into his hair. It felt right to physically cling to him after what they’d done, even if it wasn’t everything they both wanted to do. Once he was satisfied with his work on her neck, Draco leaned back onto his elbow as far as she’d let him go and brushed his thumb over her lower lip, “Was that nice?” 

Forsythia murmured it was, and thanked him quietly. He carefully took his hand away from where he’d rested it just under her breasts and got up under the pretense of cleaning himself off and then coming to clean her. Apparently it was important for him to do it the non-magic way because he left his wand on the pillow next to her. 

For a split second, she wondered if she should take it. If she did, then she could stun him and make a run for it, or apparate away from the rowhouse. It was right there, just inches away from her. If she took it, she’d have both of theirs and he wouldn’t be able to follow her. She could go back to London, back to the pub where she’d be safe and warm and never have to think about the wizard’s war or horcruxes or Draco-bloody-Malfoy ever again. 

With a quick glance at the bathroom door, Forsythia felt her chest stutter over a breath as she turned back to the wand. It was right there. 

Was this a test? Or was he trying to show her that he trusted her not to take it from and use against him? A rushing started in her ears and she kept wildly looking between the wand and the still closed bathroom door.

What was he playing at? There was no way he’d  _ actually  _ forgotten it there. It had to be a trap of some kind. Be that as it may, Forsythia couldn’t suppress the shudder that worked through her at the thought of just reaching out and taking it. She could go. Their bond wasn’t complete and she could..could..

Her mind faltered. What if they came after her again? What if they found her and tortured her? Her chest ached sharply as she drew in a harsh breath. They’d put an entire mastering charm on her, what if they’d also put a trace? Sure, she’d turned seventeen so the ministry trace was off of her, but what if the Death Eaters had put on a new one while she’d been unconscious as well? It seemed very plausible that they could have manipulated the mastering charm to include some sort of location tracking spell. Maybe Draco could just tell his wand to point in her location and it would take him directly to her.

Would he be furious with her, or would he understand? Forsythia gasped at the pain that bit through her chest at the thought of being without him. He’d just gotten her off in his bed with his hands and his affection flowing so freely to her without expecting anything from her in return. 

If not furious, then maybe he’d be completely distraught over her being gone again. The third time he’d have to deal with her absence. Was she cruel enough to put him through it? Even if it meant her own freedom? 

Slowly, Forsythia slid her hand forward, fingers skipping over the gentle folds of his sheets until they hovered over the handle of his wand. She could feel a zap of magic as she started to lower her hand, eyes locked on the bathroom door and reflexes poised just in case. 

  
  


_ I’ll be there in a moment, my love _ . 

  
  


His voice in her head made her freeze. Even though he wasn’t touching her a warm shiver of affection flowed through her from him. Forsythia forced herself to breathe as she fisted her outstretched hand and pulled it back to press into her still aching chest. 

As long as she was with Draco she was safe. She  _ needed _ to stay safe.

She stretched her body, wincing when there was some discomfort on her belly. Forsythia looked down at the mess he’d made of her. Feeling very outside of herself, Forsythia simply raised an eyebrow and flickered her eyes back to the bathroom door before she looked down again. The gross curiosity won out and she dragged her finger through it then brought her finger to her lips. The taste reminded her a lot of his blood, though it wasn’t as rich. She cleaned her finger and relaxed fully as Draco came back to her. His hair was damp and there were still beads of water racing down his bare chest.

All previous thoughts left her. There was no need to run from him. He would keep her safe. They would get through the war together. Everything would be fine. There was no need to take his wand. He would keep her safe. 

“Are you doing what I think you’re doing? Because that would be practically pornographic.” 

He’d barely gotten her cleaned off when the room lit up in a cool, ethereal light. Forsythia nearly cried out in shock and fear, jerking around to look at where the light was brightest. 

Draco caught her arm and tugged her down next to him, blocking whatever it was from view as he grabbed for his wand and then froze, “I think that’s Potter’s patronus.” 

Forsythia peered around his upper body and squinted. Standing in the middle of the room was a ghostly, silver stag. It waited a moment before it opened its mouth and Harry’s voice was projected from inside it. 

“Glad you got back safe. We’re in the same place, and will stay here until we hear back from you. Let us know what he finds out.” 

The message was repeated and then the stag turned into mist and disappeared. “He always knew how to ruin a good moment,” Draco growled, slowly lowering his wand and then raking his fingers back through his hair. 

Forsythia reached forward and touched his shoulder, very relieved when he didn’t flinch under her cold hand, “Come lay with me.”

“That was my plan.” 

It only took two minutes of awkwardly getting back into a comfortable position before Draco was guiding her back to his neck. He kept his hands on her shoulders while she went back to listlessly brushing her lips over his skin.

Forsythia was pleased every time his breath shuddered through him. Knowing that she could tease him just as successfully as he could tease her was a huge boost of confidence. 

“Ready for bed?” she asked once she felt him start to go slack under her. He begrudgingly agreed, though she could still smell his arousal as they settled in for the night. 

“Will you be alright if I do sleep?” he asked, yawning. Forsythia nodded, “Yes, thank you. I’ll stay out of the sun, too, since it’s probably going to be up in about fifteen minutes.” A smile ghosted over his face, and slowly, he reached up to hold her cheek. 

“Can you send Potter your patronus? If they’re near Hogwarts we might as well see if we can convince The Dark Lord that he’s there waiting for him. If so, we might have a real shot at getting this ended properly.” 

Forsythia barely waved her wand and her black mare erupted from the end of it. It was almost too easy to summon her now with Draco lying under her. There were no more thoughts of running from him. 

Out of curiosity, she turned to him and asked, “Not that I mind, but why is it my patronus we’re sending?”

“I can’t summon one.” 

She scowled at him, “What do you mean?” Her mare disappeared as her focus shifted.

“I haven’t been able to since I took the Mark.” 

Her scowl faded, and suddenly she was filled with an intense sadness for him. “Not even when you think of me in the tent? Or in your bed?” she prompted, searching his face anxiously. The only reason her patronus was so strong was because of him, so surely it could work the other way around. 

He shook his head, “Not even then. Which is not to say that you don’t bring me copious amounts of joy. Anyway, tell Potter to stay where he is. I’ll speak with The Dark Lord when I can and tell him we’ve gotten wind of him being near the castle.” 

Forsythia waved her wand again, lazily turning to the mare as she tossed her great head, “Go to Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Tell them to stay put, he’s going to speak with He Who Must Not Be Named and I’ll reach out as soon as I can with more information.”

“Tell Potter to leave us alone for a bit, we’re very busy ravaging each other,” Draco added, snapping. That made her scoff out a laugh, her previous panic already filed away in her mind like it had merely been a bad dream from her childhood. 

She didn’t know if the patronus could take any messages that weren’t from her specifically, but sent it off anyways.

He pulled her back to his chest and kissed the top of her head again, a new kind of comfortable settling over them as Draco drifted to sleep. 

For a moment, as her patronus disappeared in a flash of light, Forsythia wondered if by this time the next year they’d all be together. Would she be invited to family Christmas at Grimmauld Place? Or wherever Harry ended up living? The thought of being at the burrow with everyone made her feel warm until she remembered that Fred would probably be there, which might be awkward. Would Mr. and Mrs. Weasley even be okay with having a Vampire in their home? 

She guessed if Lupin had been telling the truth, and they had all accepted him, which she reasoned was most likely true, then surely a Vampire wouldn’t be too much further of a step. Besides, she was still so young and had so much humanity left in her. It was her very humanity that craved a warm room full of people who were familiar, people who knew her. 

Even if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley  _ were  _ fine with her status as a Vampire, Fred would probably have something to say about his ex-girlfriend showing up. Probably even more to say if she brought Draco along. She could picture him, freckles scant from the lack of sunshine in the winter, hair a mess, scowling at her while he and Draco got into a pissing match over who even knows what; probably something crude. The amount of innuendo and whispered rude remarks were sure to be endless if Draco acted similarly to how he did around his mates. 

The last thing she wanted was drama, particularly not during what was supposed to be a happy time. If they won, too, the next Christmas would be even more of a celebration. Maybe if everyone had enough firewhiskey it wouldn’t matter who turned up. She had a hard time picturing Draco, who had since fallen into a quiet sleep with a soft scowl on his face, having a nice time at any sort of family gathering, firewhisky or not.


	18. Chapter 18

Draco still hadn’t woken up after one in the afternoon, so Forsythia got up as quietly as she could and went into his bathroom to take a look at herself for the first time in months. Once she was stood in front of the vanity, she allowed herself to meet her reflection’s eyes, like she was seeing a stranger. That was certainly how it felt to look at herself.

Seeing the stranger in the mirror, she understood why Hermione had been so jolted when she’d taken her mask off in front of them. Indeed, burned light pink into the spot on her cheek where Draco always held her, roughly an inch up from her jaw, was a rune. 

It matched the one that was carved into the dragonhide of her mask, and when it was set on her face, would sit right over the scar. The closer she looked the more runes she found, though the only ones that stood out the most starkly were a perfect match for the one on her cheek, like whatever that one specifically meant had burned into her more times than any of the others. 

Obedience. That’s what Blaise had said when he’d seen it for the first time. She’d burned the rune for obedience into her face over and over. The stranger in the mirror sneered. 

One copy of it wrapped down across her jaw, its shape distorted. Both matched in the same pink hue, the skin shiny and slightly puckered around the edges. It was the one place Draco hadn’t kissed her during his assault on her neck. The sneer vanished. Now the stranger looked forlorn.

If nothing else, the runes made her look more intimidating. More feral, like she was branded. Forsythia wondered if they’d be able to be concealed with a glamour charm, but had left her wand on the bedside table in the other room. Maybe, if it really bothered her, she could ask Draco if he could charm them away for her. If they were covered, maybe he’d be more inclined to kiss over her jaw. 

On her wrists, there were more marks that she guessed were from the chains Rosier kept her in. Mentally she skittered away from the memory, and instead examined the rest of the skin that was visible. Which, as she’d never put her top or trousers back on, was a lot more than usual. Standing in Draco’s bathroom in nothing but her cotton knickers should have felt more triumphant, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but the chill of physical assessment. 

Other than her face and wrists, her skin was smooth as stone and too pale to look ethereal. She looked dead. If she shifted, there was more too-tight, scarred skin over her waist that she’d missed on her first once over. That must have been from Rosier, too. When she ran her fingers over it, it crackled with dark magic and she shuddered. Must have been where he’d cursed her at some point.

Forsythia forced her gaze back up. 

The dark circles under the stranger’s eyes were lilac, the tiny capillary veins visible in violet faintly within them. The nose was shorter than she’d remembered it, rounder at the end and slightly more wide there, too. She did rather like the way the pale mouth turned up at the ends even though the stranger wasn’t smiling. It was an ever present lift that was something between a sneer and a smirk. 

From the lips, she moved to the jaw, which was strong and thin, and ended the heart shaped face with a delicate point. She was glad none of the abuse she’d suffered changed that shape too much physically. Scars she could deal with, but a complete change in bone structure might be too difficult to process.

While part of her wondered if that was even possible to do, she continued up to where the hair was pulled back neatly from the pale face and into a braid down the middle of her back. Hisky had said it was getting too long, and as she pulled it over her shoulder, she had to agree. There was no reason to have her hair down to her hips. 

Carefully, she untied the tidy bow in the ribbon Draco had gifted her, and then ran her fingers through the dark plait until her hair hung around her in thick waves. She glanced back into what were her own eyes, not a stranger any longer despite how much she wished it was, and the lightest, most unnerving shade of blue stared back. When she blinked, she could see her pupils expand and contract as the light hit them.

Her upper body had become softer than it was the last time she properly looked at herself. She guessed it was her consistent diet. Despite being softer, she still thought of herself as rather lanky, like her limbs were just slightly too long for her torso. In a way, she looked like most other Vampires, slightly too predatory to be human, but too evolved to be animal. It was, like her eyes, rather unnerving. 

Forsythia closed her eyes and tried to remember what had been different before she’d been changed. 

Her eyes were dark gray, and in the sun they looked like slate. She’d kept her hair a manageable length, though still long, and was the trademark Black family wavy brunette. There had been a smattering of freckles over her face, neck, chest, and shoulders. Though she had high cheekbones, the immature roundness of childhood had stuck with her all through six year. 

On all accounts, she looked a bit more like she belonged in Hufflepuff. She wasn’t sharp in any way, like the other Slytherins. Even her demeanor was softer than most of the girls, specifically, in her house. When she was sorted, though, the hat hadn’t even fully touched her head before it’d shouted “ _ Slytherin!” _ and nobody else had ever shared with her if they thought they’d been put in the wrong place, so it was never an option for her to believe, either. It hadn’t said anything to her, either. From what she remembered, only one other student from her year had the same exact thing happen, and that person was in the other room covered in bitemarks and love bites.

The hat was right about him, so she decided very early on that it was right about her. 

Even feeling a little out of place, she adored being in Slytherin, even if she didn’t look or act like any of the other people in her house. When she’d confided in Professor Flitwick about it during their private lessons, he nodded along grimly, saying that Professor Dumbledore always wondered if they sorted too young. She’d gotten very cross with him, insisting that she loved being a Slytherin, it was just hard being so different from everyone else. If only she’d known then how different she was destined to be.

Maybe this was why the hat had put her in Slytherin. Could it see the future? Maybe it knew she’d become dark, too. That was the saying; any witch or wizard who got chummy with The Dark Lord had come from that house. Forsythia shivered; maybe the sorting hat was prophetic to some degree. 

Forsythia turned the tap on and splashed her face in cold water before she let her thoughts wander any further. Now wasn’t the time to be worrying about the past. She and Draco needed to make a plan, and then he needed to speak to The Dark Lord and convince him to go to Harry. If they could just get him to Harry then the war would be done. She was sure of it. 

As she was drying her face, she heard Draco take a long, deep breath before his heart started beating faster. He’d been so quiet before it was a stark difference. She peeked around the door frame, “Are you alright?” 

Draco jerked around from where he’d been staring at her spot in his bed, one hand behind him to support his weight and the other stretched out and touching where she’d been next to him, “I thought you were gone.” he breathed. His expression was blank, but his heart still pounded. 

“I wanted to wash my face,” she responded quietly, confused as to how he looked so calm with his heart beating so intensely and stress pouring off of him in waves. Draco nodded as he took a deep breath and pushed his hair back from his forehead. There was a glimmer there, and she realized he was sweating. 

“I heard the tap, but…” 

“I’m not just going to up and leave you if I can help it.” 

“You’re allowed to do as you want. Leave or stay, it doesn’t matter.” 

Forsythia’s eyes widened at his tone. Why was he being cold to her? She didn’t know what to say, so she started to move back to the unoccupied side of his bed but he caught her wrist as she passed, his eyes locked pointedly at where he held her. 

“We shouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed. It’s too much of a risk.” 

“A risk?” 

“If we’d have broken the contract last night everything would have been ruined!” 

Oh, that was why he was being rude; he was scared. It was in his scent like it had been when she’d been transferred to Rosier. The only thing she could relate it to was battery acid. 

Forsythia blinked at him, her entire body going soft and still as she met his eyes, “I’m sorry I crossed a boundary. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” 

She ignored the fact that it was  _ he _ who invited her into his bed in the first place in favor of soothing him through what was, of course, his first and only time having to deal with this sort of situation. Despite knowing that he was simply afraid to ruin their plan as she had been, too, Forsythia also felt embarrassed. He’d seen her almost fully naked and now he was acting like he never wanted to again. 

“Oh. Right, well, I’ll..I’ll see you later. I’m going to speak with him today about where Potter is and I’ll let you know when I come back what he’s planning.” Draco’s cheeks were pink, but his heart had slowed considerably. 

Forsythia left his room and was quick about it. Half of her was really angry because how could he take his anxiety out on her, especially after they both had genuinely enjoyed themselves? The other half, though, felt sorry for him. How horrible it must be for him to struggle so hard between doing what he wanted and what he needed. How it had been for him to have her back in his arms but unable to take her as he definitely wanted to. Then of course, add in the fact that they couldn’t do more than what they’d done the previous night lest they ruin Harry’s chance at finishing this. 

The amount of work Draco had done would have been for nothing. He and Severus would be held accountable for their treason against Voldemort and Forsythia would be tortured and then murdered right along with them. If they had slipped up last night for even a moment, their plans would have collapsed around them between her gasps of his name and the snap of his hips. 

He’d gone through so much already with her; losing her around every corner and seeing her be destroyed by what they had to do to gain the trust of the Death Eaters and Voldemort himself. He’d seen her be tortured by Rosier for weeks, unable to do more than stand by and do his best to anticipate what would be done to her next. 

For a moment, she felt rather selfish. The entire time she’d been focused on how horrible being transferred had been for herself, and rightly so, but it hadn’t occurred to her how it had been for him. Afterall, he didn’t exactly share if he’d been miserable. He’d barely said he’d missed her. Then again, he’d also sat on the ground holding her hand through the bars of her cell, promising to never leave her again, for hours at a time while she was unconscious. 

He’d woken up in a panic when he thought she wasn’t there any longer. Her absence caused him intense anxiety. 

The other Vampires had said as much in their whispering as well; about how he lurked around her cell. Maybe he wasn’t good at saying how he felt, maybe he was just better at showing it. 

With a shake of her head, she tried to push the thoughts away. Like worrying about the past, worrying about the present wouldn’t do anything to change what was happening. They would be able to discuss it all once the war was over if they both survived it. 

She’d just sat down by the fireplace after turning her chair around to face it when a silver burst of light filled the room. 

Expecting Harry’s stag, she was surprised to see an otter standing on its hind legs looking fiercely at her. “Hello,” she said to it, sitting up higher in her chair. 

Hermione’s voice spoke through it quietly, “I’ve put them to bed seeing as they stayed up for nearly twenty-four hours waiting for you to send us word. Don’t feel bad, they’re just excited is all, I think. How are you?” 

It disappeared. Forsythia conjured her mare, though it took two tries, and took a deep breath before saying, “Go to Hermione, let her know I’m alright. D and I had a lover’s quarrel but it’s fine. He’s going to talk to his boss today and he said he’d let us know what the next step of the plan is. Your otter is really cute, by the way.” 

Ten minutes passed, then the otter floated dreamily in on its back, paddling its feet as if in water as it slid down to rest before her. 

“A lover’s quarrel? Are you okay? Aside from that, thank you for keeping us updated. It’s..exciting. I understand why the boys wanted to stay up. This is the biggest break we’ve had in months. And, thank you, I’m very fond of it too. Your mare is impressive as well.” 

Forsythia sent her back the mare and explained some of what happened, and they continued to talk back and forth for most of the day until Hermione and Ron traded keeping watch. He did send his Jack Russel Terrier to let her know they’d switched, and the conversation died from there. It had been nice, though, to have a girl friend to confide in. It suddenly made the weight of not having Bernadette in her life very, very heavy. 

Forsythia nearly fell over herself rushing to the kitchen, her body moving faster than she’d let it in months. Hisky gave a start when she turned around and Forsythia was standing there with tears in her eyes. 

“Oh! Miss Thia, what is wrong? Has Master Draco been being mean again?” She demanded, her hands on her hips. A tear dripped off her chin, “N-No-,” that was a lie, “-I..I was wondering if you’re any good at finding people. I’d send an owl but..but..,” her chest started to spasm. Hisky moved closer to her, “Owls is not safe to be sending communications, Miss Thia. They is being checked. Hisky can go speak to who you need messages sent to. Who is Hisky finding?” 

“I..I don’t even know if I should send her word, though, Hisky. She thinks I’m dead.” 

Hisky’s eyes widened, “Dead? But Miss Thia, you is standing right here.” 

The tears were tracking down her cheeks now, endless it seemed as her chest felt like it was about to both cave in and explode, “It’s a r-really long story, Hisky, I’m sor-ry,” she said, leaning heavily onto the counter as her muscle memory kicked in and she started hyperventilating. 

“Who is Miss Thia needing to send Hisky to? Hisky can be finding any witch or wizard Miss Thia needs.” The elf looked beside herself with worry, and even moved forward again to take Forsythia’s hand between both of her own. 

It took a few minutes for her to get a hold of herself, and Hisky holding her hand definitely helped relax her; if the elf was there then she knew she wasn’t alone. 

Once she could keep her breathing minimal and slow, she met Hisky’s still worried eyes again, “I don’t need you to find anyone now, but maybe in a couple of weeks. There’s a girl I went to school with, Bernadette Graves. Once I speak with Draco I’ll let you know when to go to her, is that okay?”

Hisky nodded, her ears wiggling with the motion. Slowly, Forsythia leaned down and hugged the elf against her, “I’m so glad you’re here with me, Hisky. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Hisky hugged her right back, her small shoulders shaking. 

“Miss Thia is a good witch. Master Draco was right.” 

Forsythia sat back, “What do you mean he was right?”

“Master Draco told Hisky when Miss Thia was going to come live here. He says Miss Thia would be kind and a good witch who would help him to be defeating the Dark Lord.” 

“What else did he tell you?”

Hisky hesitated, then leaned in closer, her eyes somehow even larger than usual and her ears pressed back flat against her head, “Master Draco is also telling Hisky not to tell anyone-.”

There was a loud crack in the study. Forsythia moved instantly, pulled as if by an invisible thread, pressed the mask onto her face just in case and almost slamming into Draco’s chest in her haste. He was pale again, his eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly. She waited, holding her breath and staring up into his eyes as he shrugged off his cloak and tossed it onto the chair she usually occupied. 

“Two weeks. He’ll go to Hogwarts with the entire army.”

“That means us, too, right?”

He gave a slow, careful nod, though his eyes were guarded and his expression closed. Forsythia searched his face, “What?” 

He hesitated, biting the inside of his lip before he squared his shoulders and pinned his eyes to the wall behind her, “I’ll be giving a different Vampire polyjuice potion.” 

Despite there not being any warmth in her body to extinguish, his words sent ice down her spine. The crushing feeling in her chest from earlier returned full force, and she staggered back from him half a step like he’d struck her. 

“No-.” 

“It’s the only way I can keep you safe.” 

“I can’t stay here alone. I can’t-Draco, please! Please, let me go with you, I can help, I can, I can-,” she broke off, tears blurring her vision. 

He waited until she ran out of words to say before he cleared his throat awkwardly, “We’ll have to break the contract before I’m set to leave.”

“Take me with you, take me with you and we can break it a different way. You can’t leave me alone after we do that.”

His eyes flashed dangerously, “Forsythia, don’t force my hand. I don’t want to command you to stay here.” 

“Please, Draco, please don’t leave me here alone.” 

Her mind raced, one second she was watching as his face distort with anger and frustration and the next all she could hear were Hannah’s screams for her mother. Hermione had said Hannah was fine, but what if she’d lied? She could feel herself shaking.

If she’d lied, and Hannah was dead, what would that mean? How would she be able to live with herself knowing that she’d killed somebody she’d gone to school with. If Draco forced her to stay home she’d effectively kill him, too. She knew he was able to take care of himself, but her job was to keep him safe. If she had to take a killing curse for him, she already knew she would. 

Before she could think or stop herself, Forsythia let her lips part and her teeth descend. 

“Don’t you dare.” 

It only took one, fleeting thought. The shock was barely perceptible over the unexplainable, blinding pain in her chest. The cruciatus had been delightful compared to this. The shock came again, stronger. If Draco died because she wasn’t there to throw herself in the way she knew her life would be over. What was worse: dying for somebody you cared about or dying because you weren’t there to die in their place? 

**Shock** . Hannah screaming.  **Shock** . Draco’s cold, dead face staring unseeingly up at her.  **Shock** . Rosier leering down at her while he kicked her head.  **Shock** . 

“ _ Enough _ .” 

The mask was ripped from her face. Her tears stung as they went down her cheeks, and she wondered if there were more runes burned into her, now. She’d backed up into the wall, and when she could open her eyes she found Draco staring furiously at her, mere inches in front of her face. 

“Do you truly find this much pleasure in making things even more difficult for me?” He demanded, inching closer as she leaned back from him. 

“ _ Look at me. _ ” She didn’t think, didn’t resist. When she met his gaze he looked desperate. 

“If you stay here with Hisky you will be safe. I can’t risk losing you after..after the contract breaks. I’ll have a couple of hours before the other Vampires realize they can act on their own free will. They will flee, there’s no reason for them to stay. Without them, there will only be Death Eaters and maybe a few giants and trolls. Potter will have a chance at ending this.

“I need you to be still so I can heal your face.” His voice lowered to a whisper, but his eyes still burned. His command held, so she stared at him while he raised his wand and pressed it gently against several points of her face, leaving a web of warmth in its wake as he worked over her. He looked so furious that she was afraid of him for the first time in months.

“You will stay here with Hisky. We will break the contract as planned unless you have any other objections to that.”

She shook her head, jaw locked tightly to keep from arguing. Every day leading up to the meeting at Hogwarts would have to be spent convincing him to let her go with him. If he didn’t change his mind, she’d go anyways; she’d find a way. There wasn't a chance she would let him go by himself with some other Vampire dressed up as her. She couldn’t entrust his safety with a stranger like that. 

He was still so close to her, one hand at the base of her throat and the other on the rune on her cheek, “As soon as it’s done I’ll come back to you. I have to keep you safe, though, Thia, I have to. I can’t lose you.” The conviction in his voice made her shiver. 

“We..we’re going to break the contract and then you’re going to leave me.” 

His expression tightened, “Yes.” 

Forsythia reached up and took his wrist in her hand then slid her fingers up until she was keeping his hand pressed into her cheek, “You’ll really leave me right after?”

He winced, “Not right after. But shortly, yes.” 

She sighed, making a big show to look resigned, “Okay.”

“That’s it, then? You’ll stay?”

“I’ll do what you told me to do.”

That made him look suspicious, but when she let more tears fill her eyes he grimaced and cautiously pulled her into his chest. She wanted to push him away, to hide away in her room for a little while to come up with more of a solid plan for the days leading up to when they broke the contract. Would she be able to keep it together for long enough to do that? The image of her wrapped around him fully naked did nothing to keep her focused on the task at hand. 

Now, as she’d feared, there were no thoughts of escaping from him. She was bound to him, even if their blood bond wasn’t complete yet. And he was bound right back to her. He wasn’t just keeping her safe, he was hoarding her away. They certainly had different definitions of what it meant to keep the other out of harm’s way. 

Instead of shoving him from her, Forsythia stood up on her toes so he didn’t have to bend over quite so far and looped her arms around his neck. She shivered as his hands splayed out across her back, and there was an insistent pull to feed from him. If nothing else, it would further their bond. 

The idea to use the bond to force him into letting her go to Hogwarts with him crossed her mind. Which would be stronger: the bond or his command? Then again, his command would be void as soon as the contract broke. Their bond, though, would remain perfectly intact. 

She was surprised it hadn’t solidified yet; afterall she’d fed from him half a dozen times at that point and it still felt incomplete somehow. Part of her was annoyed for not asking Jonathan Francis-Curt about it, and for not enduring his stories of past lovers to understand more about the bond. Maybe, like the contracts, they needed to be physical together. That thought brought on many more images of them in the throes of passion, which Forsythia swallowed down and tried to ignore. Now wasn’t the time. 

“Thia, we can’t,” he murmured, though he was the one guiding her body to mold itself up into his. Hardly any space was between them at all, and when he backed her up into the wall again there was even less. 

“Not going to do anything,” she breathed back, pressing her face down between his jaw and shoulder and breathing in his scent as deeply as she could. If she only had two more weeks with him then she was going to have to do everything she could to make their bond complete; it was the only way to convince him to let her go with him. 

There was the choked sensation of Draco apparating them, and they were in her room in front of the fireplace with a loud crack. “I have to keep you safe,” he whispered, eyes wild and desperate as he squeezed her to him. 

“I’m safe. I’ll be safe.” 

Looking miserable but resigned, Draco left her in her room. He kissed her forehead before he left, but then she was alone again. 

“Hisky!” She called, staring at the empty fireplace. Hisky appeared with a pop, a potion in her arms. Once Forsythia drank it, she turned to the elf, “Do you know if my fireplace is connected to the floo network?” She had no idea if the fireplace in Professor McGonagall’s office was still working, but she had to have a back up plan if Draco  _ really  _ wouldn’t take her with him. 

The elf looked nervous but gave a little nod, “Hisky knows, Miss Thia.” 

“Do we have floo powder?” 

“Miss Thia, Master Draco is not wanting you to be leaving your room.” 

She met the elf’s anxious gaze, “Has he cursed the door knob again?” 

Hisky’s ears fell, “Y-Yes, Miss Thia.” 

She snorted, rolling her eyes and starting to pace. How could she get out if he’d effectively trapped her? If Hisky had orders not to give her any way of getting out, too, then what was she supposed to do?

She sent the elf away after thanking her for the potion, then sat down on the bed and tried to work out a new plan. 

-*-

Some hours later, and no closer to a new strategy, Harry’s stag burst into the room, his voice issuing from its open mouth. She welcomed the distraction.

“We’ve switched watch, you can send word to me now. Alright?” 

Seven times she had to cast her patronus charm before her mare finally burst forward, “Go to Harry, tell him I’m alright. They have two weeks before he goes to Hogwarts. Draco will be there with..without me. I won’t see anyone until after it’s all over.” She thought it best to not share her plan; this was something that she would keep to herself just in case somebody let it slip to Draco. 

Her mare cantered in a tight circle before disappearing in a flash of silvery light. Barely seven minutes passed before his stag was back, “Brilliant. We’ll be ready. He really won’t bring you? It would be helpful if he did.” 

“He won’t let me out of the house. We’ll break the contracts and then he’ll leave for Hogwarts with the rest of the army. When the Vampires realize they’re free they’ll run.” 

“Well then let’s plan on meeting after I’ve..finished everything, then. Sirius wants to see you as soon as he can.” 

That felt good to hear, and her patronus came much easier after he shared that. She sent back “cheers” and was done with it, and tossed her wand from her at the foot of the bed for good measure.


	19. Chapter 19

Two days passed before she saw Draco again. She was reading on her belly by the fire, barely absorbing a single thing she read as she idly turned the pages. There was still no new plan, and she hoped like with Rosier, there would be some moment of weakness when she could strike. His apparition was silent, but his scent tipped her off as he strode towards her. 

“Come here.”

She waited until he collapsed into one of the chairs in front of the bookshelf before she rolled to her feet and waited for him to tell her what to do. She’d already had three potions, and she couldn’t think of what he’d want. 

After hesitating for a moment, Draco patted his thigh, “Here.” It felt awkward, and almost wrong, but she perched on his lap and did her best to push away any rash ideas. 

He held his wrist up for her, “Bite.” 

For a moment, she thought he was joking, but when he glared at her, she took his wrist in her hand and bit. 

Something was different. Her eyes flickered to him and she shuddered. Draco’s gaze was immediately glazed over and his lips were slightly parted, “O-Oh,” he breathed, blinking weakly. 

Forsythia swallowed, his blood making her entire body vibrate with an intensity she’d never felt before. Was this it? Was their bond finally complete? 

Her question was mostly answered when Draco let out a shuddering gasp of her name and clung to her as she drank from him once more. All at once, there was a rush of affection from him to her. It was so warm and sweet on her tongue that Forsythia couldn’t stop herself from quickly closing the wound on his wrist and ducking to his neck instead. 

Draco seemed to be thinking the same thing because any previous callousness was gone from him as he tilted his head away to give her more room. Both of his hands flew and then clutched her hips as he dragged her to him.

Forsythia bit again, properly sinking her fangs into him while he groaned. Something was trying to take over, to drink until Draco was too weak to move. 

_ No _ , she thought desperately to herself, closing the wound and physically pushing herself away from him. He looked confused, then shocked as she shoved the dragonhide mask on and collapsed across the room from him on her bed, legs splayed out in front of her and breath coming out in short pants. 

It took him several minutes before his eyes cleared, and then an intense look of dread filled his expression, “Oh no.” 

Forsythia leaned back on her hands, fighting every single urge that threatened to take control, to go to him and drink from him until he was enslaved to her for as long as he lived. 

“Don’t use the mask, I’m not upset,” he said, looking suddenly desperate as he pushed himself up and stumbled over to her. Forsythia held her hand up in a weak warning, “N-No, you have to leave or I’ll..I’ll..,” she trailed off, unsure of how much to share with him. 

He took an unsteady step back, “A-Alright. I’ll, uh, see you later.” 

With that, he left her room, waving his wand over her door knob before touching it and then vanishing into his own bedroom. As soon as she heard his shower turn on, she got up and went straight down to Hisky through her still open door for another potion. 

They only had two left by the time she felt like she was in control again, and Hisky popped away to get more from Severus once she was back in her room again. Forsythia curled up back on the rug in front of the fire and rested her head back against the chair, her mask resting on her knee in case Draco came back to see her. 

He didn’t, not that night. Three days passed this time before he knocked softly on her door and asked if he could come in. 

“Yeah, come in,” she called back, turning to watch from where she was seated on the windowsill. It didn’t give her much room, but it was the furthest point from the door which would be safer for him. The last three days had been spent there, too afraid to risk being closer to the door if he decided to venture in. 

Despite being so far, his scent had her up and halfway across the room before she flitted back to put the mask on the second he opened the door. It made certain spots on her face tingle, and she guessed those areas had pink scars on them now, too. 

Draco watched her looking both concerned and a little curious, “Are you okay now that it’s on?” She nodded. 

“I want to apologize for the other day.” 

Part of her wanted to argue back and say that it had been her fault, but she held her tongue. If he saw that she was still acting submissive towards him he’d never guess her plan to use their bond to convince him to let her go to Hogwarts. This was the plan she decided on, and figured there wasn’t a plan b. She’d have to make it work. When she stayed quiet, he continued. 

“Somehow I’d forgotten that the bond would be close to being complete. If I’d remembered that I wouldn’t have had you feed from me until we were closer to next Friday evening.

“The Dark Lord is mobilizing the army at midnight Friday. Can you tell Potter? I know Severus is gathering the staff there, he’ll need to know they’ll have backup. Severus also said there are students who are willing to fight, too.” 

“I’ll let him know.” 

“Thank you. Oh, and..about the contract. Are you still okay with breaking it the way we planned?” 

“Yes.” 

Their sporadic conversations for the next week ended the same way: Draco asking if she would still break the contract with him in the way they already planned. She agreed every time, because it would be the perfect time to influence him with the bond. The only problem was that she had no idea  _ how  _ to influence him.

By Friday evening, Forsythia was barely able to keep still. If she wasn’t pacing, she was bouncing her leg anxiously. If she wasn’t bouncing her leg she was chewing her fingernails. If she wasn’t chewing her fingernails, she was pacing. Draco had seen her the night before to double check that she was still consenting to their plan, and as the sun made it past its highest point, she felt sick with anxiety. 

So many things, human things, were rushing through her mind. What if he didn’t like her? What if he thought she didn’t look nice? What if it wasn’t good for either of them? Would they even be able to properly do it? Her mind raced. 

At seven in the evening, there was a knock on her door. Much to her surprise, Hisky was waiting in the hall with two potions balanced in her arms. “Master Draco is wanting you to have two more, and then to go to his room, please, Miss Thia.” 

She drank, her body thrumming as much as it could with the ribbon in her hair. The potions were more Draco’s blood than not and it did nothing to calm her nerves. Not knowing what to wear, she was in the black clothes she used to wear to Oak Grove, her hair braided back away from her face.

When she’d been with Fred, it hadn’t been planned. He’d just grabbed her elbow as they left the Great Hall after dinner and steered her into the tiny broom cupboard. He’d kept his hand over her mouth while he kissed her neck and snuck his other hand under her skirt. It had been thrilling, from what she remembered, trying to stay quiet while he whispered filthy things into her ear. 

She doubted Draco would be anything like Fred, after all they had been so young and definitely inexperienced. Although, he’d been able to get her off pretty easily, so maybe he wasn’t as inexperienced as she thought. After she took a deep breath, she reached forward and knocked on Draco’s closed bedroom door. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **heads up this whole chapter is basically just smut**

Draco opened it just as she touched her knuckles to the wood, “Come in,” he breathed, standing aside so she could slip past him. Her shoulder brushed his chest and she felt the intense urge to bite him right there in the doorway. Instead, with her jaw and fists clenched, she continued past him and towards his bed. 

As per usual, his room was incredibly tidy. The bed was dressed in the same gray linens she had on hers, though he had significantly more pillows. Across the room, his fireplace crackled with a slowly dying fire. In front of it, a velvet chaise lounge seemed to have been pushed closer to the grate. There was a small stack of books next to it, and a throw blanket folded neatly over the back. 

As she took another step towards his bed, she heard him awkwardly clear his throat. 

“Er..not there.” 

She turned in disbelief and paused, “Not on the bed?” she asked, confused. 

Draco shook his head, “No..not at first.”

If not for the ribbon, Forsythia was convinced she’d probably pass out there on the spot. It had never crossed her mind to think of what exactly he would be like when it finally came to this. 

Slowly, Draco shut the door, cast a silencing charm over it, and reached forward to take her hand. Forsythia allowed this, even held his hand gently back as he led her to the lounge in front of the fire. It reminded her of the couch in his tent, and she felt herself tense at the memory of being pinned to his chest while he let her drink from him. 

“I..I need to tell you something important,” he breathed, “if I hurt you..or if anything isn’t what you like, tell me. I-I want this to be for us, too, not just for the contracts.

“I don’t want this to just be because of the bond, either.” 

Forsythia internally winced at his mention of it. Maybe he wouldn’t even know it was happening when she used it. Just as slowly as he’d been moving, Draco sat sideways and then leaned back against the arm of the lounge, guiding her down on top of him as he had when they were in the tent. There was something different now, though. 

Now, there was the rush of a promise that there would be no more holding back. 

There wouldn’t be interruptions from Theodore Nott or Blaise, or any reason not to touch or kiss each other as they saw fit. Harry and Ron would not burst in and steal her away from him. 

She wondered briefly how his lips would feel on hers for the first time. Would he be soft, like he was when he kissed her forehead? Or, would a different side of him come out that she’d not yet seen. 

Draco kept their hands clasped, even as he led her to rest them over his head. Being stretched out across his chest felt fine, good, actually, and as it wasn’t too far off from what they’d done in the past it didn’t entice her anymore than it would have if they weren’t about to break the contract. 

Gentle, still, he urged his thigh between her legs, both trapping and securing her against him. It was certainly more comfortable than being squished down between his thighs. 

“Alright?” he asked, moving his free hand from where it had landed on the outside of her hip up to her chin to tilt her face up to his. 

As soon as she met his gaze, it felt like something in her sparked to life. His eyes were liquid silver, warm and affectionate and possessive as he held her gaze. There was also something dark, there, too, something that made her want to rush to see more.

Forsythia shivered at the thought of using the bond now. It felt wrong, somehow, though, to use it during such an intimate time. Of course, this was the only way in her mind to get him to take her with him, but it seemed like cheating. Then again, what would be worse? Influencing him just a tiny bit or staying at home with Hisky while they waited to hear if he’d died or not.

There was a sudden pull, deep in her belly, to give in to Draco; to let him do whatever he wanted to her and just relax into it. That feeling scared her. How was she supposed to properly consent to this if it was the bond pushing her to? Forsythia pushed the feeling away, ignoring the need within her and instead focusing on how stable he felt under her. Sure, his heart was beating rather quickly, but other than that he seemed relaxed as he held her. 

As she calmed, she wondered if using a little bit of the bond would be alright, as long as she didn’t let it completely take over. She allowed it to slip, just a tiny bit, and her body moved seemingly on its own as she stretched up to brush her nose against his. 

Draco held her still, though. She could see him still waiting for her answer, so she nodded once, “You?” she asked. He nodded, too. 

“I don’t want to rush this.” 

“So you want to drive me insane?”

“Essentially, yes. This is how I would do it if we were together under normal circumstances.” His cocky smirk made her stomach squeeze. 

“How would it have been under normal circumstances?” 

“I’m certain we would have run into each other at some point. First, I would invite you to coffee so we could catch up, then dinner a few times, and finally we’d end up exactly as we are now.” 

“You sound very confident in me saying yes to your coffee date.” 

“Would you have said no?” 

“I’m not sure. In your fantasy am I still human?” 

Draco’s mouth quirked, “To me, you’re human  _ now _ . You just require a very strange diet.” 

She couldn’t help but snort at him. What about her exactly was human? Her skin was pale and frozen like a corpse, her eyes too blue to be passed off as mortal. Then of course, there was the matter of the half-inch long fangs that slid down anytime she went to bite into anything. 

Draco smirked, “You don’t believe me, do you?”

“No.” 

“It doesn’t matter, that’s how I feel. I told you before that I don’t really even think of you as a Vampire unless you’re stalking towards me wanting a drink.” 

Forsythia snorted at him, rolling her eyes, “It’s only because I’m so young, still. Give me a hundred and fifty years and I’ll be even less human.” 

“I guess we should really drag this out then, shall we? That way we can savor it?” The apple in his scent filled her, and she wondered if taking things slow was something that made him excited or if it was just the prospect of having her for the first time. 

She did want to commit everything to memory like he’d said, though; every detail that might have otherwise seemed insignificant now held the highest value. Fred had been messy, each interaction so fast she could barely remember all the details when she was just a human girl. 

She could feel in the way Draco’s heart was pounding and his arms kept flexing around her that every movement he made was calculated and designed to make her feel safe and cared for. His touch promised that he did plan on taking his time with her, memorizing each second that they shared.

_ You’re safe, you can say no and I’ll stop, I’ll take care of you.  _ His confirmation in the back of her mind made her shiver. 

He’d said something back when they’d argued in the garden, something about how the other Death Eaters couldn’t see what good care of her he was taking. At the time, she’d wanted to shove him away and tell him he was insane. 

Now, though, with his thigh pressed between hers and his fingers tangled in hers and his hand resting so gently under her chin, she finally understood what he meant. 

Every lingered touch, every sweep of his eyes over her lips, each time he was tender with her.  _ This _ was what he meant. 

Carefully, like he was afraid he’d startle her, Draco guided her face up slightly higher. He leaned in, his scent and his warm exhale washing over her face. The ribbon, and his hand, prevented her from jerking forward in a fit of excitement. Instead, he met her eyes once, the question in them plain, and when she nodded weakly into his hand, he brushed his nose against hers, teasing. 

Twice, he teased her. Forsythia knew if her heart still beat then surely this would be the time it hammered away in her chest, threatening to explode with the tension between them. The seconds stretched, and she held her breath. 

The last thing she wanted to do was lose control the second his mouth finally touched hers and bite the hell out of his lower lip. The thought of biting him while they made out did make her fangs start to slip, but she locked her jaw closed and forced them back up where they wouldn’t hurt him in case he did get passionate. 

Draco felt her stiffen, and rested his forehead against hers, “Alright?” he asked again, stroking her cheek with his thumb as he held her hand tighter. She nodded, careful not to bump her nose into his too much. 

She glanced down and saw him smile, “Are you past the point of talking already?” he teased, waiting with his lips just centimeters from her. She could feel them move, almost on hers, while he spoke. Again, she nodded, though, as carefully as she could, opened her jaw just enough to say, “I’m trying very hard not to bite you.” 

His smile widened into a knowing smirk, “Not yet. I’ll tell you when you can, though.” 

Even with the ribbon, even with the two potions only moments earlier, she swore her heart leapt. Casually, like they did this all the time, or had at least done it at some point previously, Draco finally sunk forward the last three centimeters and kissed her. 

As she’d feared so many months prior, all thoughts of escaping from him truly vanished. It didn’t matter that she was his interrogation tool. It didn’t matter that he could command her to kill somebody she knew and she’d do it. If he told her to throw herself from the astronomy tower, she would. Her body curled tighter against his, and she wanted nothing more than to be his secret, tucked away in the rowhouse, for the rest of his life. 

There was still Hogwarts, though. The thought was fleeting, and whether it was the bond or something else, it was disregarded just as quickly as it had come. In the rush of need and arousal that passed between them there was something else; something richer that Forsythia didn’t understand at first. 

He was being so tender, boarding on loving, as he rested his lips against hers. The richness started to make sense but she ignored any naive hope that he did love her. They needed to break the contract and she needed to convince him to take her with after it was broken.

As she’d suspected, though, his lips were very warm and soft. It was dizzying having him finally kiss her, though she could tell as he started to pull back it was with great restraint. 

“Alright?”

“Uh…”

“Do you want to stop?”

His hand loosened just enough to allow her to push herself up further, using his chest as her stabilising point. She kissed him again, slightly more eager now that she knew she could keep herself under control. He responded equally as eager, moving his hand back from her jaw and into her hair as he shifted his thigh under her until she gasped against his mouth. 

She could feel his smirk the second her lips parted, and he swiped his tongue along her lower lip, teasing again. “You’re too easy,” he cooed, kissing her again before she could respond. It felt right having his lips moving against her so easily and his thigh a constant pressure which both kept her grounded and also reminded her of where they were going to end up. 

Forsythia didn’t even try to tease him back, and instead let her body melt into his. This was right, this was what they were meant to do; she could feel it. It wasn’t like it had been with Fred, where part of the fun was the chance of getting caught. With Draco, the only reason she kept pushing back up to kiss him again and again was the promise that they wouldn’t. 

The first noise he let out, something between a gasp and a groan, was when she’d pushed herself up higher and took some control of what they were doing. She held him tighter and arched her chest against his. Draco followed her with his thigh, but otherwise let her fist the front of his shirt and let out her own shallow breaths against his mouth. 

The next happened because she experimentally did bite his lip. It wasn’t hard enough to draw blood, but it caused the mood to shift. They weren’t as cautious anymore, and instead Draco took his free hand from her hair and dug his fingers into her hip. He pressed his tongue against her lower lip, the pressure fleeting before he leaned back enough to ask, “Can I?” between their mouths. Forsythia nodded again, the movement tight as she tried to ignore the insistent need deep in her stomach. 

Draco slowed down again, teasing his tongue against her lower lip until she, less cautious as well, parted them. Every sense was filled with him and whatever he’d sparked grew brighter. She could feel her arousal getting more intense the longer they kissed. For a moment, she was worried that she was much more affected than he was, but when he shifted her more fully over his leg, she felt him against the inside of her thigh. 

It hit her, then. They weren’t just making out in his bedroom. They had an end goal, a real, tangible target to aim for. Even though he said he didn’t want to rush through it, to keep it as authentic as he could, she didn’t care. Forsythia pushed herself against his thigh, desperately sobbing his name when the needy pull in her stomach became more insistent. 

Part of her wondered if it should be embarrassing to be this worked up after only kissing for about ten minutes, but she guessed since he also seemed rather aroused by it then it couldn’t be that bad. Afterall, this was still their first time together, and it had been an incredibly long journey to get where they were indeed heading. 

“Shit,” Draco groaned, pulling back and moving lower so he could kiss her neck. With each press of his lips more sounds started to bubble out of her. After one particularly high pitched wine of his name, Forsythia locked her jaw again. Surely _ that  _ would have been too much. 

He nipped her neck hard enough to make her gasp out. “Did I tell you to be quiet?” 

Forsythia squeezed his hand and moved her free one up to his hair to hold him to her neck. He was trying to leave love bites, from what she could tell; the biting felt good. Of course, without being able to bruise it wouldn’t leave any marks, but the idea that he was trying to mark her as his was very arousing. Arousing enough, in fact, for her to repeat her previous motion against his thigh. 

The hand that he had locked on her hip tightened further, and then he was encouraging her movements against him, too, even guiding her to move more surely against him. She clung to his hand and his hair, hoping more than anything she wasn’t hurting him as she tried to keep her head. 

As if to immediately soothe her worry, Draco murmured against her neck, “I like when you pull my hair, it’s a good indicator that I’m doing what you like.” His voice was thick with arousal, deep and gravelly and rough like he’d just woken up. 

“I-I, I want my top off,” she whimpered back, suddenly feeling very closed in and like there were too many things between them. 

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he responded evenly, only removing his lips from her skin for long enough to get her shirt pulled off of her. 

As soon as it was tossed away, he rejoined their right and left hand, respectively, and moved his lips lower onto her now exposed collar bones. Forsythia was glad she’d decided to put her bra on as seeing his eyes roam over the lace of it was exciting. It didn’t last long, though, because as soon as he got closer to her breasts he leaned back and asked softly if her bra counted as a top as well.

“You can take it off, if you want to,” she breathed back, arching her chest again so he’d have an easier time unclasping it. With more ease than she thought possible, he reached up and then her bra was slipped off and tossed down with her shirt. 

He lazily looked up at her, then glanced down and raised an eyebrow before pulling back to take her in. “I’ve really neglected telling you how beautiful you are, haven’t I?” he asked, eyes locked on her bare chest.

Forsythia nodded slowly, “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you too harshly.”

The double entendre made him smirk, “If you say so,” he teased. It was a little embarrassing having him openly stare at her, but the feeling lifted when he met her eyes again and used his free hand to support her left breast up to his lips. 

“Can I kiss you here?” he asked, barely brushing his lips over her sensitive skin. Forsythia nodded, weak again as he continued to gently encourage her against his thigh in addition to urging her to arch her back so her breast was almost fully pressed against his lips. The second he flicked his tongue against her she went right back to gasping and whimpering his name under her breath. 

“If you’re this loud now, just imagine how you’ll scream for me later,” he murmured, sounding very much like he was talking to himself. In response, she clenched his hand between her fingers and fisted his hair again, tugging when he sucked crudely on her. 

There was a rush of cool air against her slightly damp skin as he gasped, and then he was biting her again and she pulled on his hair harder. He switched sides, chuckling breathlessly against her as she tried to push him to hurry up. 

“I’ve got four and a half hours left with you, I intend to use them. Might as well give up on trying to rush this.” 

Even though she wanted nothing more than to power through, she remembered that she also wanted to savor and memorize how this felt with him. So, she scooted back down his body, the movement of which felt wonderful against his thigh, and kissed him hard on the lips. 

  
Despite just telling her that he was planning on taking as much time as possible, Draco responded fervently. With the hand that held hers, he guided her arm around his neck and then slipped his fingers free in favor of grabbing hold of both her hips. Firmly, he tipped her forward and effectively pinned her to him. 

Her back arched automatically and, still furiously kissing him like her life depended on it, she wrapped both arms around his neck and allowed herself to moan properly. Seeming to also let go a little bit, Draco responded with a groan of his own, though he was much quieter than she was. 

“ _ Now _ can we get in bed?” she gasped between kissing him, her legs already shaking. Draco nodded, kissed her once more and nipped at her bottom lip, then sat up and lifted her into his arms. Forsythia scrambled to lock her legs around his waist, though with both of his hands under her thighs she knew there was no way he’d let her fall. 

He didn’t break their kiss as he carefully walked them to his bed, each step paced until he leaned her down onto her back amongst his neatly made up duvet. She didn’t let him get very far without a final kiss, and then he had to untangle her arms from around his neck in order to tug his shirt off over his head. 

“Give me your hands,” he whispered, catching both of her wrists in one hand from where she’d been fighting to unbutton her pants. Ignoring her disgruntled whine, Draco took her hands and put them back around his neck. 

He looked stunning in the low light, each scar thrown into harsh relief and each muscle starkly defined. Again, she was reminded of greek statues. As he watched her look him over, he gave a low chuckle, “Like what you see?”

“Yes,” she answered honestly, “I always have.” 

His smirk warmed into a smile and he leaned back down over her and pushed them both up the bed until she was resting back against his pillows. It felt good, laying with their chests pressed together and her thighs framing his hips while they kissed, almost lazily now compared to their previous outburst of passion. 

“I like when you’re sweet,” he said, brushing his lips over hers and humming. 

“I’m usually sweet to you,” she argued, stroking her fingers against the back of his neck and savoring the warmth of his skin under her touch. There weren’t any scars there, and his skin was silky against her fingers. 

He hummed again, sighing against her, “That’s true. Must be why I like you so much.” 

“ _ Do _ you like me?” The rush of vulnerability made her wish she hadn’t asked, but part of her really wanted to know if he did. 

“Isn’t it obvious?”

He kissed her again but pulled away just as quickly as he’d moved in, “Isn’t it?” He prompted when she didn’t answer.

“Is you liking me you or the bond?”

“Hm..me. But the bond is making me more honest about it than I would be otherwise.” 

“What does that mean?”

“If we were together under normal circumstances, I would make you beg for it.” 

“Beg you to like me?”

“No, beg me to tell you if I did.” 

Forsythia slid her hand down from his neck to rest on his chest, “Are you into that?” 

He nodded, then rolled his eyes, “This bond, I swear,” he said through gritted teeth. 

She grinned, “What, you don’t like telling me what you like?” 

“I’d rather just show you.” 

Her grin faltered slightly, a new anxiety shuddering through her at the thought of giving into the bond just to see how he’d be with her if she fully submitted to it. He saw her expression shift, and then sat back enough to look at her face fully, “Hey, easy. Remember you can say stop and this will be over. We can find a different way if this is too..if it’s too much pressure or if this isn’t the right time for us to do this.” 

“I want to do this, I just..the bond is really strong and I’m trying to keep myself in control so these decisions are mine.” 

“I know the feeling. I promise I won’t do anything you don’t give me explicit permission to. Just tell me if the bond gets too intense and we’ll stop, alright?”

She nodded, intrigued for a moment as his heart pounded just under his chest. The scent of apples swirled around them as he questioningly moved his nose against hers. Forsythia nodded, biting her lip before sitting up into his kiss and sighing against his mouth. At least she had the choice to stop, even if she knew she wouldn’t stop him unless something dire happened. 

Things slowly heated back up until Draco pulled back, her lip tucked between his teeth. He released it only to ask, “Did you want your trousers off now?” already reaching for them. 

Forsythia grinned, lifting her hips up so he’d have room to slip them off of her, “Yes, please.” Draco froze, his eyes going wide. 

“Say it again.” 

“Please take my trousers off?”

“ _ Good girl _ .” 

The look in his eyes told her immediately what he was doing, how he remembered that’s what Fred had called her in the broom cupboard and he was staking his claim as the only one allowed to call her that now. When he saw her recognition of this, the possessive darkness in his eyes grew. 

Like her shirt and bra, her pants were tossed unceremoniously out into his room, though he left her knickers on while he pushed his own trousers off as well. When they were only separated by one piece of clothing each, her knickers and his boxer briefs, Draco collapsed against her again, going straight for her breasts without any further pretense. 

Forsythia thought the stimulation would make her explode. One moment she was arching up into his mouth and touch and the next he was sliding his hand down her body and resting it over the top of her thong. For somebody who’d said multiple times that he wanted to go slow he certainly was not going slow. 

“S’this alright?” he panted, pressing on her lower abdomen gently to indicate what he meant. Forsythia nodded, “Please, please, I need  _ anything _ ,” she whimpered, squeezing her eyes closed and zeroing in on the feeling of him slipping his fingers under the thin waistband. 

Previously when he’d touched her, she’d known that that was all it would be. Just touching. Now, with the promise of it being the beginning rather than the end of their time together, her entire body thrummed with the inevitable pleasure she knew he would provide. 

Once again, and much to her dismay, Draco slowed; she knew she’d jinxed it by thinking otherwise. He rested more of his weight into her to keep her still, “You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” He asked, meeting her eyes steadily. Forsythia nodded, gasping under her breath as he turned his hand and pulled the fabric down only far enough for him to rest his hand over her. 

Her hips jerked forward as much as he’d let them, and his eyes lit up with a possessive amusement. “You’re very needy, aren’t you?” 

Again, she nodded. She’d just closed her eyes when she felt him shift up over her, his mouth back on her chest as he slipped his middle finger into her. 

Instantly, her entire body stiffened and she squeezed her knees into the sides of his ribs. It didn’t hurt, but she could definitely tell they would need the rest of the four hours they had in order to keep it as painless as possible. 

More than anything, she was glad this seemed to be working in the first place. Far back in her mind, she’d been worried if they’d even be able to have sex, all things considered. Sure, Jonathan Francis-Curt had certainly mentioned his own sexual trysts but he was a man. It was a relief to know she could do as she wanted, too. Very human, she thought to herself. 

As his finger rested fully in her, the fleeting thought of turning her head and burying her teeth into his forearm rushed through her, and with it an intense wave of arousal. He’d said it felt good when she fed, and now that she knew her body would accept him all that was on her mind was his pleasure. 

_ No _ , she thought,  _ no biting yet _ . Maybe once things heated up more she’d ask if he wanted her to. 

Draco looked up, smirking again, “Alright?” He tapped his finger up and she clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. 

His answering chuckle made her curl forward into him, trying to press herself to him as much as she could. It put his shoulder level with her fangs, but Forsythia locked her jaw to stay in control. 

His free hand slipped up under her and held her up to his shoulder, gently sliding his finger in and out of her casual as ever. He wasn’t fooling her, though. Forsythia knew he was aroused because the air around them was almost exclusively warmed with the apple scent that gave him away. 

“R-Really good,” she stammered through her teeth, shifting her hips in the small space he’d allowed. 

From where she was curled with her forehead against his shoulder she could look down at him pleasuring her. The soft sounds her body made as he moved inside it were crude, but she didn’t care anymore. 

Every previous anxious worry about him liking her was gone, and as he slipped a second finger into her Forsythia was shocked that she’d ever been worried in the first place. He’d been hinting for so many months. How had she missed it? 

“Is that okay?” He asked against her ear, keeping both fingers still until she whimpered that it was still fine. Carefully, Draco guided her back down to lay flat. When their eyes met she was surprised to see his cheeks so pink and his eyes so dilated. Without thinking, she reached up to bring him down into a kiss. 

Draco responded tenderly, moving his fingers in her equally so while he sighed against her. Her back arched up so their chests were pressed together again, and it allowed his fingers to move deeper in her. There was a rush of prickling pleasure and he must have thought from how her body tightened around him that he’d hurt her because he froze. 

“N-No, no, don’t stop, please. Draco, I’m fine, I’m fine-,” she whined, moving her hips awkwardly to try to force his fingers into the spot again. He stayed still, brows knit together in worry as he let her move against him. “I’m really alright, it feels good, I swear. I promised I’d tell you if it hurt and it doesn’t. I love it, I-I don’t want to stop-.” The words spilled out of her before she could stop them. 

It was making her incredibly desperate, having him kneeling above her with two of his fingers pressed inside her without moving them. His hair had fallen down over his forehead, and his eyes burned with an anxiety she’d rarely seen in him. 

Slowly, as she continued babbling about how good he was making her feel, a smirk crept across his face. With much more precision than she expected so suddenly, he tapped both of his fingers up against her, setting a gentle rhythm in addition to stretching her. 

Forsythia stopped thinking again. All she could feel were the prickles of pleasure and the way his name fell out of her mouth. As her pleasure started to build, she jerked forward and wrapped her arms around him; one over the top of his shoulder and the other under the arm he was using to support himself. 

As soon as her fingers made contact with his back, she clung to him. More human muscle memory took over as her hips rocked into his touch. Since he’d made it clear he wanted to hear her, she let her lips part as she whimpered his name. 

He pushed more of his weight back into his knees and caught her thigh in his hand, pressing it up and back towards her chest and staring down at her. He was too far to keep her arms wrapped around his upper body, so she let them rest against the bed while she savored the new angle his fingers had inside her. 

It was good that he’d moved away, that urge to bite him was only increasing with each brush of his fingers. 

“Do your fangs always come out when you’re aroused or is that just for me?”

She grinned, her eyebrows raising as he moved his fingers slightly harder in her. “J-Just for you,” she breathed back, crying out as he collapsed forward into her again, his lips back on hers like they’d never left. 

Their kiss turned languid as Draco carefully took his fingers from her, though the removal of them was a tad more painful than their original introduction. The exact moment she winced, he froze again with them still halfway in her. “I-It’s okay, just go slower,” she gasped, grabbing his hand that still held the back of her thigh and shuddering as he started to move again. 

She could tell he was being incredibly cautious, and once they were fully out of her, there wasn’t anymore pain. Her entire body went hot as she watched him bring his fingers up to his lips and run the length of them with his tongue. 

“How is it that all you eat is my blood and yet here,” he said, nodding down between her legs, “you’re so sweet? Surely that’s to my credit, then?” 

Forsythia’s brow wrinkled, “I..I suppose so, yes. Nobody’s..ever said I tasted nice.” 

Draco scowled, resting the tips of his fingers against her lips and looked expectantly at her. “If you don’t believe me, taste for yourself.” 

Feeling slightly embarrassed, Forsythia did as he said. It very quickly turned from her tasting her own arousal on him, which reminded her of something delicately sweet and heady, to seeing how far into her mouth his fingers would fit. Though, with the way his cheeks burned pink and his pupils somehow swallowed up even more of his irises, she didn’t think he minded the change. The heavy ring on his fourth finger touched her lips and that was about as far as she could take him. 

It didn’t burn her. He’d transfigured the metal to keep it from hurting her. 

“Here I was thinking you were out of surprises,” he breathed, eyes locked on how his ring rested against her lips. 

Carefully, she released his fingers and smiled, “I’m still very much full of surprises,” she countered, easily slipped her leg out of his grasp and then wrapped them up high around his waist as she guided him back down to her. 

His kiss was more reserved, and she felt him shiver as she pressed against his stomach. Though she couldn’t remember when he’d removed her knickers, she was glad to have them gone. 

“Alright?” she asked, brushing his hair from his face and feeling an intense wave of affection come from him.

“Yes, I..do you feel, er, prepared?” he asked, nervously licking his lips. Forsythia took a deep breath that was all rain, forest, and apple, and smiled, “I think I’ll be fine as long as you’re gentle.” That made his heart stutter for a couple of beats before it righted itself. 

“Ah, yes, good. Alright, brilliant,” he stammered before he unhooked her ankles from behind his back and sat up enough to push his briefs off. She openly stared, her eyes widening comically as he revealed himself to her. 

“Still sure you’re ready, then?” he asked, smirking smugly once more. For a moment, she did completely forget how to process anything other than the way the muscles that wrapped around his hips curved into a sharp ‘v’ shape that led directly to the appendage in question. 

With a tremendous amount of effort, Forsythia tore her eyes from between his thighs and slid her gaze up his toned torso, back to his face where he was still smirking at her like this was exactly the response he’d expected. 

“Well?”

Forsythia pushed herself up onto her bum and wrapped both arms around him, tugging him down to her lips. She could taste herself on his tongue, and without thinking she let her fangs graze his lower lip just as she’d pictured earlier. 

He jerked forward into her, grabbing tightly to the tops of each of her thighs to keep his balance as he said her name like it was a swear. “-forget my lip, bite my neck,” he growled, pulling back before flipping them easily over so she was straddling his lower abdomen. 

“Well, when you ask so nicely,” she played back, still having to scoot up some in order to be able to reach him where he’d said. In the back of her mind she wondered how it was allowed for somebody to be so long. 

She barely got her fangs in him when he groaned somewhere above her ear, “Fuck, every time you do it, it feels like an orgasm.” 

Forsythia giggled, sucking suggestively on the wound while he scrambled to grab onto her more tightly. Somehow, he managed to hook his hands around the backs of her knees and held her there, squeezing her every time she did something suggestive as she drank from him. 

Now, being fully bonded, his blood was even more potent than it had been before. The more she drank, the more aroused they both became. It was both incredibly satisfying while also leaving her wanting more. Before she got too lost in it, she closed the bite with her tongue and moved to start leaving more tame bites along the column of his throat. 

Since he hadn’t been able to leave any marks on her, she felt that it was her duty to make up for his lack. So she left a new love bite every few centimeters until the side of his neck looked thoroughly abused, then she switched sides. 

He allowed her to do this, even egged her on by teasing that he wasn’t sure she’d done enough to make her point clear. She sat back just enough to meet his eyes, which were heavily glazed and unfocused as he stared up at the ceiling. “And what point is that?” she asked. 

“That I’m yours, obviously. We’ve still got two hours, love, there’s no need to rush.” 

Normally, two hours would have sounded like a decent enough chunk of time, however knowing that she still hadn’t convinced him to let her go with him once they had finished breaking the contract made a cold anxiety rush down her spine and into her belly. She didn’t know the first thing about how to use the bond to influence him; was she supposed to just speak to him like he spoke to her when he used the mastering charm or was there something special she was supposed to do to activate it?

He leaned up and started kissing along her neck, too. 

“Ah, am I your love now?” she asked, her voice quiet as he continued to nip and kiss wherever he could reach from underneath her. She felt him nod his confirmation, and then they were flipped again and he was pinning her to the mattress with his upper body while he sat most of his weight into his knees. 

With his hands still on her thighs, he urged her legs back again like he had earlier, and he kissed a messy trail from her chest downwards until he was hovering between her legs, “Can..would it be alright if I kissed you here?” he asked, jerking his chin down. 

Embarrassment flooded through her once more. What was he playing at? Even Fred had never done  _ this  _ with her. She bit her lip, wavering. He’d already said she tasted nice, the very thought of which made her stomach roll with both arousal and embarrassment. 

It seemed so filthy, but she took a breath and said, before her nerves could fully take over, “A-Alright, if you must.” 

“Oh, I must.”

Her thighs jumped in his hand the second he made contact with her. While he worked her over, Forsythia did everything she could to first, not orgasm, and second, to figure out how to get him to take her with him. It had to be now, because when they went further she knew there would be no way she’d be able to think clearly enough to even try. 

“D-Draco-,” she gasped when he moved his tongue a certain way, her fingers flying to tangle in his hair while he groaned against her, “-t-take me with you to Hogwarts.” 

He shook his head against her, though it didn’t interrupt the movement of his tongue on her at all. He didn’t seem affected in the slightest, so she tried again.

“Please, just t-take me with you.”

He groaned again, though this time it sounded more like a warning. Frustrated that it didn’t work, Forsythia took her hands away from him and then went limp as he teased his teeth against her sensitive skin. Despite feeling deeply defeated, it was impossible not to enjoy how talented he was. 

Very quickly, he worked her up to a point where she was teetering on the brink of absolutely losing everything, and right as she cried out that she was about to do just that, he pulled back with a dark look on his face, “I know what you’re doing. Stop it.” 

She nearly screamed, both hands scrambling to ball into fists with his sheets between them while she could feel the mixture of his saliva and her arousal drip down her body. His expression softened as he watched her shift under him, tears blurring her vision, and, slowly, leaned back down to use his tongue on her again. 

He was rougher now, digging his blunt nails into her thighs and keeping her hips locked down against the bed. 

“Oh my god-oh my god,” she keened. He didn’t stop until she was screaming for him, her entire body clenched tightly as the most intense orgasm overtook her. With a surly expression, he pressed his two fingers back into her mouth, “Hush, even with that silencing charm the neighbors will think I’ve killed you.” 

She sucked dutifully on him, unsure of what else to even do. She released one handful of bedsheets to hold onto his wrist. 

When she was able to look up at him again, she almost choked. His hair had fallen in his face again and his eyes were nearly black. The dark purple and red blotches that littered his neck only added to the sight of him. As he panted, his lips shiny with her arousal, the muscles in his chest and torso flexed.

She knew she was safe. She knew he’d take care of her. Her entire body hummed with the most exquisite happiness. He was hers. 

“I’m not bringing you, but we do need to get on with it,” he said, moving his waist back between her now shaking knees and guiding her legs around him once more. 

Her happiness evaporated. His words had cracked through whatever the bond had put up between them in that moment, and Forsythia was beyond words. All she could do was nod. 

He was only keeping her away to keep her safe. She knew this was true, could feel it deep in her bones. A flash of his dead, empty eyes cracked through her, sharp as stinging hex. She clung to him, willing herself not to panic. He couldn’t know how close she was to it, not now. If he knew he’d stop and there would be nothing warm left. 

She swallowed hard and helped him arrange her legs while he settled between them. There was no reason to make this part difficult; it was what she wanted, too. 

“You’ll tell me if I hurt you?” he prompted. Forsythia gave him a weak nod and continued sucking on his fingers. 

The disappointment that flooded through her made it hard to focus, try as she might to keep it at bay. 

She’d failed.

He’d leave her as soon as it was over and it would possibly be the last time she ever saw him. A shaky breath rattled through her chest, and his gaze flickered up at the sound of it. He didn’t stop, though, and in his eyes the most intense craving reflected back to her. 

She knew it should scare her, maybe remind her of Rosier and any number of the horrible things he’d done to her. Maybe it was the bond utilizing some kind of self preservation that eased any beginnings of anxiety and instead filled her with a deep arousal and affection for Draco instead. He was hers just as much as she was his. 

Everything happened so quickly. One second, Draco was reaching down between their bodies for himself and she could feel him brush against her as he lined up with her entrance, and the next there was a flurry of swearing as he pushed away from her. He wasn’t in bed any longer. Instead, he was up and across the room, clutching his left forearm and swearing rather loudly again as he went to his wardrobe. 

“Draco?” she called, the familiar ache in her chest returning at the thought that she’d done something wrong, something to make him throw himself away from her. As she sat up, she watched him yank on his forgotten pair of trousers and his top. “Draco, what’s wrong?” she asked, pushing her knees together to cover herself. 

  
“He’s calling me early.  _ Unbelievable _ ,” he snapped, rounding on her in what seemed like a blind fury, “Thia,  _ don’t follow me.  _ Stay here and don’t do anything stupid.”


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> strong violence/death of minor original character warning. deathly hallows compliant.
> 
> here's a nice super long chapter for ya'll :)

The exact moment he disappeared with a harsh crack, Forsythia got dressed almost as furiously as he had. In her haste she nearly tore her top in two. There was no time to think, she had to get to Hogwarts  _ now _ . 

Even though she’d not properly planned out a back up, now her mind raced with ideas. Maybe she could go into the little village just outside the front door and apparate to Hogsmeade. No, that would be too obvious, she’d be too out in the open and at risk. 

Could she get to the forbidden forest instead? That seemed like a gamble, too, considering all of the dangerous beasts that lived within the forest. If only she’d properly read  _ Hogwarts: A History  _ then maybe she’d know of some secret way to get to the castle. There had been rumors of ways in and out through hidden passageways or maybe a statue was involved; she couldn’t remember. 

But now, she’d waited too long. There was no time for reading old school books. She had to act. 

Forsythia tied her boots too tight, lurching for her wand and securing it to her thigh once it was transfigured into the handsome blade, and she ignored the ache in her chest as she thought of Draco. She should have questioned him further on what the plan was for the evening. Would he go right to the school or would they gather somewhere else first? 

Briefly, she wondered if she should go to Oak Grove, but that was quickly shut down. If he saw her there and knew she was out of the house he’d order her more specifically and it would all be over. That was, of course, if  _ he _ was the one to find her there himself. There was no telling what somebody else would do to her and subsequently him if she was found away from him. 

“Hisky!” 

The elf was very sheepish when she arrived in Draco’s room, her ears lying back and her eyes the size of saucers. “Miss Thia?” she asked, wringing her hands together. 

“Which fireplaces are connected to the floo network, Hisky?” 

Back in her mind she remembered the only way she’d ever heard of students coming to and from school without technically leaving the grounds. It was a huge gamble, but it seemed to be the quickest and least dangerous way to get there. She’d take the floo to the fireplace in Professor McGonagall’s office. 

“Miss Thia, Hisky can’t be telling you anything specific. Master Draco forbids Hisky from it, miss.” 

Forsythia couldn’t help her growl of frustration, though she stopped herself from lashing out physically at any of the furniture. It would serve him right though, she thought, to come home to his bedroom destroyed. 

Her rage flared and she rounded on the elf again, “We have floo powder in the house, though, don’t we?”

“There is floo powders.” 

“Where is it, Hisky? Tell me.” 

The elf shook her head nervously, “Hisky is not able to be telling you, Miss Thia.” 

“What if you just show me? Like the general area.”

There was a pause, then Hisky nodded once, and much to Forsythia’s dismay she looked scared. 

“Can you take me to the floor it’s on?” she asked, trying to be more gentle. The elf took her hand, determination lining her little face as she nearly dragged Forsythia back to her own room. 

“This was Master Draco’s room, Miss Thia. He travelled by floo many times.” 

Forsythia felt victory rush through her. The fireplace in her room was working and connected to the floo network. She’d be able to get out. 

They didn’t stop until they were in front of the bookshelf, and Hisky pointed wordlessly at the top shelf, then disappeared with a sharp pop. Her frustration returned just as quickly as it had disappeared. Now she got to go on a treasure hunt without much of a map. 

“I don’t have time for this!” Forsythia raged, yanking book after book off of the shelf. Fifteen minutes passed and she still couldn’t find a single container of floo powder. 

She stopped dead. 

Feeling more stupid than she had in so, so long, she grabbed her wand and transfigured it back into wood, “ _ Accio floo powder _ .” 

A book at her feet sprang open and she realized it had been hollowed out, and from the empty space in it, a wooden canister shot out and into her hand. Forsythia nearly dropped it, crying out in relief and victory as she yanked the top off. Inside, glittered the grey floo powder. 

There was no time to waste now, she had to get herself to Hogwarts and to Draco before something bad happened. Praying McGonagall’s fireplace was still connected, she took a heavy handful of powder and stepped into the fire with nothing but her wand and her mask. 

-*-

The spinning was awful, and it felt like each passing second was an hour as she tried to focus all of her attention on watching for McGonagall's office. Forsythia almost missed it, but threw herself out at the last minute. 

The office was dark, and more importantly, empty. She landed on her knees on the bare floor and stayed as still as possible as she calmed herself. As soon as her arms stopped shaking, Forsythia reached up and took her mask off so she could smell properly. 

Nobody had been in the office for a while, but just outside the door she could hear footsteps, though they weren’t close. There was a deep burning smell that drifted under the door, then the rancid stink of dark magic. Forsythia waited there, crouched in the dark and trying to smell for Draco. 

She knew it was a long shot, and that she would have to eventually go out into the hall, but for a moment she turned all of her attention onto him. A few seconds later, it was like a bright, warm light blazed to life in the front of her mind. It urged her to get to her feet and to go out into the hall. 

For some reason, she knew innately that the light would take her to Draco, partly because the bond surged through her chest when she thought of him and partly because whatever light was in her mind made his scent drift up faintly, and hallucination or not, she wasn’t going to ignore a potential guide. It felt like the bond was intensifying the feeling already brought on by the light, and Forsythia followed it ardently. 

It felt like it did when she let the bond take over when they were intimate together, like she was doing exactly the right thing to end up in his arms. 

Once the mask was tucked back over her face and her wand was in her hand, Forsythia took a deep breath and slipped out of the office. 

The hall was empty, dimly lit as most hallways were when it was past curfew. Forsythia could still hear footsteps, echoing from a hallway adjacent or maybe above her, and then screams of terror from outside. It only took her half a second to move to the middle courtyard and away from the Transfiguration corridor. 

Outside was much, much worse than she could have imagined. For some silly reason, she’d been expecting to be the first one there, but it was very clear once she reached the edge of the courtyard that that was definitely not the case. She couldn’t see much, but she could smell it all.

There was a fire somewhere to the east, the scent of burning wood instantly activating part of the animal side of her. She needed to stay away from that area, fire would kill her. She had to survive to find Draco. If she could just find him then she could make sure he stayed safe. 

So, not to the east. The light in her mind started to feel more like a string pulling her along as she skirted around the edge of the courtyard. Right where she’d been originally standing, the wall blew out and several shadows darted across the gaping hole in the wall and moved east, towards the fire and the Whomping Willow. 

There was also the heavy scent of powdered stone and fresh blood, and Forsythia had to stop breathing to stay in control. Even though she was bonded to Draco, the metallic tang that hung in the air still activated the part of her that wanted to hunt. 

_ No _ , she thought to herself firmly. She needed to get to Draco and she wouldn’t ever forgive herself for being sidetracked from getting to him. 

Instead of following the blood, Forsythia stayed frozen in her own shadows, counting to ten before she slinked further until she could slip back into the castle through a blasted open door. Now that she was on the opposite end of eastern wing, and closer to some of the common rooms, gryffindor and ravenclaw specifically, there was much more screaming. The heavy scent of blood and dark magic swirled through the thick air and Forsythia flattened herself back against a wall as a shower of red sparks shot down the dusty corridor. 

For a moment, she couldn’t move. How had she ever been in the dueling club? Now she felt like a first year, too scared to even try using magic. There was a shrill cry, then a swear, then another burst of red light. 

“Please, I just want my mum, please don’t hurt me!” 

She didn’t have to think, Forsythia flung herself forward and ripped the mask off of her face. The person who had cried out was a child, probably a first or second year, and the very last thing she would stand for was children being hurt. Maybe it was because of what happened to her, or maybe it was some kind of hero complex she’d developed because of the interrogations, but Forsythia raised her wand and went around the corner to see what exactly was going on. 

Two figures stood several feet from her, their dark cloaks drawn and wands raised. As she’d feared, a child in their pajamas was on the ground in front of them, arms raised in defense. He couldn’t have been more than eleven. 

“ _ Stupefy _ !” she shouted, taking both Death Eaters out with a vicious slicing motion. They crumpled, and she moved faster than she usually did around humans to the little boy’s side. 

Still not operating with any amount of forethought, Forsythia grabbed the boy by his arms and hauled him up, “What house are you in?” she demanded, kneeling down in front of him to be at his eye level. He was so small. 

It took him a few seconds before he seemed to decide she wasn’t going to hurt him before he calmed enough to speak. 

“G-G-G-.” he was crying, hyperventilating still. Forsythia wiped his tears away and nodded along with him, “Gryffindor? Okay, that’s great. Why aren’t you in the tower?” she asked, keeping hold of him tightly so he wouldn’t slip away. Now he was another person to keep safe, at least until she could take him somewhere else. 

“B-Blown up- the whole side’s gone. I-I just ran. D-Delilah said to-to run.” 

“Where are the teachers?” 

“F-Fighting out f-ront. They t-told us to stick togeth-er b-but I’m afraid of the d-dark-,” he gasped, his cheeks ruddy and his eyes spilling over again. 

“What’s your name?” she asked, hoping more than anything nobody would come down their corridor. All she needed to do was get him somewhere safe and then she could get Draco. 

“Daniel.” 

“Hi, Daniel. I’m Forsythia, and I’m going to get you somewhere safe, okay? Do you know what way the others went?” 

He shook his head and started trembling, whimpering out, “I’m n-not a good gryffindor.” 

It felt like her heart was ripped in half, “You’re a very good gryffindor, what are you on about? You just took on two grown up Death Eaters all on your own and survived. That’s amazing, Daniel.” 

“Only because you showed up.”

“Nah, I’d bet you could take them. Do you have your wand?” 

“It was in my bedside table.” 

“That’s okay, let’s get going, eh?” 

Daniel nodded, and for good measure, Forsythia took his hand before leading him as quickly and gently as she could towards where voices had picked up. They were young, too, but not as young as he was. If there were students up ahead maybe she could leave him in their care. For the first time in her entire life, Forsythia wanted nothing more than for some prefects to catch her wandering the halls in the dead of night. 

“There’s some people up here, maybe they can help us-.” 

Forsythia had taken her eyes off of him for half a second, to look ahead. She felt his hand jolt in hers and then suddenly he was really heavy, like he’d fallen. Worried she’d moved too quickly and he’d tripped, Forsythia squeezed his hand in apology. His fingers loosened. 

As she swung around, she caught the last lingering streak of green light, and Daniel was dead at her feet. He was half turned, as if he’d put himself between her and the curse. Prickling numbness flashed across the surface of her skin. 

There wasn’t time to react. The masked Death Eater was moving towards her, wand still raised and rage rippling off of them like heat. Forsythia, having to act fast, flicked her wand hard and thought of nothing but making the Death Eater pay for killing the child she’d promised to protect. 

Something dark shot from her wand, the pain of it nothing compared to the roaring in her ears, and she didn’t wait to see them fall to the ground before she bent and picked Daniel’s body up into her arms. She couldn’t just leave him there. 

“Help!” she screamed, rushing towards the voices that still echoed ahead. The mask was heavy where she’d shoved it in her back pocket, and she wondered if she should cover her face now that she was getting closer to humans. 

The next corner took her into absolute chaos. Everywhere she looked masked and unmasked Death Eaters were dueling children and teachers alike. The animal instinct told her to run, so she did. 

Forsythia didn’t feel any joy in letting loose and allowing her body to shoot back towards the grand staircase, flying through the halls and across the viaducts, Daniel still firmly in her arms. She told him softly against where she had her cheek pressed to his hair that he wasn’t too big yet to be carried, that it was okay and he was still brave. She promised she’d keep him safe. 

The pain in her chest surged, and she cried out as she stumbled but forced herself to keep going. She promised him, and nothing would make her break that promise. 

The further west they got from the east wing the clearer the air was. In place of the dark magic was the hint of the remnants of whatever the students had for dinner that night, and she launched herself into the Great Hall without a backwards glance. 

It was empty, all the floating candles extinguished and the clear sky twinkling with pinprick stars above her. Forsythia went to the empty and bare gryffindor table, kicking a bench out and laying Daniel there. She straightened his pajamas, brushing away the last of the tears from his cheeks and closing his empty, still terrified eyes. 

“Bravery,” she scoffed, tearful again while smoothing his hair. He looked more peaceful now, like he could be sleeping. It felt like her chest was bursting, the bones cracking and snapping despite there not being any external trauma to them. She took a shaky breath, steadying herself on the edge of the table before she drew her wand again. 

Though her hand shook, she cast a shield charm over his body. Then, for good measure, looked around for something to wrap him in. The room was slightly chilled, and she didn’t want him to get too cold in just his pajamas. 

Forsythia summoned one of the gryffindor hangings down from the ceiling and draped him in it. If anybody deserved to wear maroon and gold, it was him. 

Something in her snapped. There was no need to fuss over if he was cold or not. He wasn’t sleeping. The pain beneath her sternum sparked again, intense enough to make her choke and grip the table once more. 

There was a commotion out in the entrance hall, and Forsythia ran for it, ducking into the room just off the Great Hall, out a side door, and back into the night. It was quiet, the air clean for the most part, and Forsythia barely made it three steps before she staggered and fell to her knees. 

Knowing that anyone could come upon her or hear her, knowing this and not caring, Forsythia let out the most agonized cry she could conjur. The Nottingham wound tore at her chest and lungs and she screamed until there was surely nothing left of her. 

Where was Draco? She needed Draco. 

A rush of heat forced her to her feet, taking full control again as the string-like pull in her mind encouraged her to keep walking along the narrow cliff behind the Great Hall. So, she walked. She could hear the lake below, the water lapping at the rocks. At some point, the tears stopped and she slipped the mask back up over her mouth and nose. There would be time to grieve later, if she lived. 

Above her, the sky had been turned a sickly green color. Forsythia ignored it. Once she reached the low wall of the courtyard that led to the entrance hall, she did look up only to scowl at the dark mark hanging over the school. It was so obvious that death had happened here, why bother being so performative about it?

It was easy to push herself up and over the wall now that she’d remembered her anger, the bond guiding her into the shadows and then across the bricks to the opposite wall. Daniel had said the teachers were there, fighting, but the courtyard was empty. She didn’t think, just allowed the bond to take her to wherever Draco was. If she could get to Draco, she’d be safe; he’d be safe. 

Icy numbness spread through her feet and legs, and even though it felt like she was walking through waist deep mud, she went over the opposite wall. The faster she moved, the more the bond swelled within her. She was close to him, so close she could almost smell him over the smoke and dark magic and blood that was filling the air as she neared the clock tower. The mask blocked out some of the blood, but she’d have to endure it. 

It was a little harder to get up to the courtyard seeing as the wall was much higher than the last one, but she managed to clamber up and over it. Just as her boots hit the stone ground, there was an explosion somewhere above her. Instantly, she ducked, covering her head with her arms and hoping nobody tried to stun or kill her while she was hunched down. 

There was a great, horrible roar, and she darted across the yard and into the shelter of the quad. Once she was tucked behind a pillar, Forsythia took the mask off once more. She could smell the dark magic filling the yard behind her, and if it was about to be swarming with Death Eaters then she needed to be ready to destroy them in any way she could. No more children would die in her general vicinity if she could help it. 

They were there, too, children hiding all around her just as she was. Groups of them were clustered together in the shadows, hunkered down and waiting. 

Their faces were tense with determination, like they were waiting for something to happen. It only took a minute before Forsythia realized what was going on. The first Death Eater who entered the quad barely made it past her before several red stunning spells shot through the dark at them. It wasn’t Draco who’d entered, so she scooted further into the dark and readied herself. If the students were working as a team to defend themselves then she should help. Afterall, she might be the oldest person in the quad which meant she needed to protect them if she could. 

Half a second passed before another Death Eater rocketed into their trap. This one was smarter; they had their wand raised and were half way through shouting a curse when Forsythia flicked her wand at their ankles. Their feet separated cleanly from the rest of their legs, and before they could scream she stunned them. 

“Blood hell, who did that?!” 

That was another adult, though not one she recognized by voice. Forsythia was too busy giving another Death Eater the same treatment. There was a deep, clear feeling that none of them were Draco, and that he was still out more towards the clock tower. 

Somebody was moving towards her, their scent heavy with honeysuckle and lilac, and Forsythia shot away from them. If they found out who she was, or what she was, they may not be as appreciative of her help. 

There was a break in the Death Eaters entering the quad, so Forsythia chanced going back to where the bond was telling her Draco was. She got so lost in it she ran face first into his back before she even realized she’d left her hiding spot. 

He veered around, his mask reflecting silver and white in the darkness. His wand jabbed harshly into her neck, but she clung to him regardless. Her face was wet. 

“You  _ stupid  _ girl,” he snarled, “I told you to stay at the rowhouse.” 

“You told me not to follow you. I didn’t.” 

His fury was palpable, and despite that, Forsythia couldn’t help but be overjoyed being reunited with him. He was alive, he was safe, he was in her arms. She could protect him. 

There was a sharp pull behind her navel and Forsythia flung her wand up in a sharp line. It split a curse in half, and she shot a stunner ahead at whoever had tried to hurt them. Now that he was with her, she would do everything in her power to keep him safe. Every merciful thought left her. 

There was a blue flash out of the corner of her eye but she didn’t have a chance to send her own curse back because Draco already had. While she was turned, a stinging hex hit her elbow and she snarled at the sharp burn of it. 

“Thia!” He snarled, grabbing her around the waist and apparating them a few feet into the middle of the quad. 

Students, many barefoot and in their pajamas, were streaking around now, some sending spells at the giant that had appeared there and some just running blindly in a panic. The scent of blood was heavy, though there was too much of it mixed together for her to pinpoint who or where it was coming from. 

Apparently their trap wasn’t as foolproof as she originally hoped it would be. Students were dead, Death Eaters were dead. Their bodies looked like dark mounds dotting the otherwise green lawns. 

There was a sharp ache in her side, but Draco was already healing whatever other wound she’d sustained. She hadn’t even seen or heard it being used on her; it was impossible to focus on anything in particular other than the way his arm held her to his hip. 

Draco readjusted his grip on her and shouted over his shoulder to the other Death Eaters to find Harry, to ignore any other students, and then he yanked her sideways and apparated them across the grounds to the green houses. 

Nobody else had gotten that far, yet, seeing as all of the greenhouses were still intact and the air was clear and fresh. The scent of freshly overturned earth and sweetly blooming honeybulb plants filled her. He pressed her backwards into one of the greenhouses before casting wards and a silencing charm on the small space. When he turned back to her, he was incredibly pale. 

“If I tell you to stay here, will you? Or will you find some stupid way out of that, too?”

“I’m not leaving you.” 

“I didn’t think so. Can you properly defend yourself?” She almost sniggered. If only he knew what she’d already done.

“I’ve got a wand and my teeth. I’ll be fine, I have your back.” 

“Don’t kill anyone. Stun them only. If we can take out any Death Eaters discreetly then take the opportunity, don’t hesitate. We’ll fight until Potter finishes this.” 

“Okay. I can do that. Can I kill Death Eaters, if I get the chance?” she asked, sliding her wand between her teeth while she wrapped her braid around itself into a tight bun, tying it together with the black ribbon. She wouldn’t share that she’d already done so, he didn’t need to know about her time at the castle before she found him. 

“Yes, if you’re able to. It’s..you have to mean it, alright? You really, really have to mean it.” 

She met his eyes once her wand was back in her hand, “I won’t have any trouble with that. What about the bond?”

“We’ll have to abandon that plan for now and focus on staying alive. One more thing.”

“Yes?”

A beat.

“Kiss me.” 

“What?” her body went cold. He’d just been furious with her, and now he wanted her to kiss him?

“Kiss me. Now, quickly.” 

Forsythia launched herself at him, her wand shooting off silver sparks in her haste to wrap her arms around him. Just in time for their lips to meet, he waved his mask away. He was gentle, urging her closer to him as he pressed his hand against the back of her head and sank deeper into her lips. This kiss, much to her alarm, felt like a goodbye. 

She didn’t have time to demand why that was before he apparated them again. They landed in the Entrance Hall with a loud crack, and Draco released her just in time to put enough space between their chests for a spell to sizzle through the now empty space. She had to immediately pull Draco back to her chest so a flash of green light from the opposite direction narrowly missed him. The fight had moved there, and they were right in the thick of it. 

“Thanks,” he breathed, taking her waist and shooting a curse over her shoulder. She turned in time to see a Death Eater drop into a heap at the foot of the marble staircase. 

There wasn’t much time to see what became of him before Draco looped his arm around her and pulled her in front of him. It might have been the contract forcing her to protect him, or some stroke of luck, but she shot a shield charm up ahead of them as she landed. Whatever spell had been thrown at them was blocked, and both she and Draco sent their own stunning spells at an adult Forsythia didn’t recognize. Like the Death Eater, he crumpled to the floor. 

They fought from where they stood in the middle of the hall, sometimes back to back and sometimes side by side. She’d never duelled like this, having her partner so close to her, moving in sync in this way. They’d never practiced this, either, though, and many times a stray elbow or hip connected with a blossom of pain that was quickly forgotten about in favor of defending each other. Draco would hiss an apology, Forsythia would accept it. Forsythia would whisper that she was sorry for banging her knee into his and he’d ghost his fingers over her waist. 

Slowly, unconscious bodies started piling up around them. “It’s too suspicious, we need to move,” Draco said against her ear as he pulled her out of the way of a flash of red light. His forearm bruised across her hips, and Forsythia nudged him away in favor of putting herself between Draco’s chest and whoever was raging towards them. 

The Death Eater who had tried to curse them, looking furious, was much closer than Forsythia previously guessed. He was getting closer, in an absolute fury as he rushed them. Without thinking, Forsythia transfigured her wand back into the wickedly curved blade and slashed out as soon as the man was close enough. Blood splattered her. It was hot and, despite the acrid tang of dark magic, she couldn’t deny the immediate need to sink her teeth into him. 

Her knife scored him across the front of his neck, stretching from ear to ear. There was no need to bite, seeing as a majority of his blood was pouring down the front of his robes and bubbling out from between his lips, but she lurched, ripping the shoulder of his robes open and forcing her teeth so deeply into the muscle there that she hit bone. He tried to scream, but with his larynx eviscerated he could only choke on his blood. 

Forsythia didn’t drink from him. Instead, she dragged her teeth along the spasming muscle and felt a rush of power as the tissue tore like parchment. She shoved him hard from her, and Draco caught her hand in his as he tugged her back to him, away from the slowly dying body. 

“Thia?”

It felt like the entire room went still. Draco turned with her towards the voice, and then both of his arms were wrapped around her from behind. 

_ Don’t move, you’re still in a frenzy. Bite me if you have to but don’t go after him. You’ll never forgive yourself if you do.  _

Fred Weasley was standing at the top of the Marble staircase looking like he’d seen a ghost. 

“Stupefy!” She cried, grimacing as he dropped like a fly. Without thinking, she did lean down and bite into Draco’s arm. He let out a small sound against her ear, the muscle in his arm flexing under her teeth as she swallowed and shivered as warmth flooded through her. It was easy to release him after that first sip, and she did so before letting her head rest back against his shoulder. 

Draco said nothing as he tightened his hold on her and apparated again. With a crack, they landed on the floor below. The force of the apparition pushed them apart, and for the first time in years, Forsythia came face to face with Severus Snape. 

He looked the same as she remembered, if not slightly more gaunt, still had oddly stringy hair and eyes that were so guarded she wondered if they’d ever not been. She gave him a nod, but had to spin into Draco’s already outstretched arm in order to avoid a curse that swept past her. There was a split second where the Potion Master looked surprised to see her, but his lip quickly curled and he was surly once more. 

“Took you long enough,” he barked at Draco, blindly shielding the three of them where they stood just outside his classroom. 

“Got a little caught up, mate,” Draco said, wiggling his eyebrows and pointing at his neck. Snape scowled deeply and rolled his eyes, “Is it broken, then?”

“Uh..no, actually. We’re..still working on that,” he said, sounding rather casual for somebody who was shooting stunners down the hall at a very confused looking group of what she assumed to be order members. 

Snape looked pained, like he’d rather hear anything other than that. “Go lock yourselves in a classroom or something, then,” he snapped. 

Their conversation ended as a cold, high pitched voice sounded directly in Forsythia’s head. It seemed, judging by the grimaces worn by both men before her that they could hear it, too. 

“-Bring me Harry Potter, and you will be spared.” 

She only caught the tail end of Voldemort’s offer. A curse had been shot at Draco while his head was turned and somehow she ended up in front of him. Something cold and thick was rushing down her chest. There was a resounding crack, something that should have been painful but wasn’t because it happened so quickly. 

_ “No!” _

There was a loud bang, pressure so intense it made her scream, and then all she could see were stars. The inky dark sky barely had a cloud in it. Somebody was speaking to her, but they must have been speaking a foreign language because she couldn’t understand a word of it. A scream tore its way through her throat again as her sternum cemented itself back together. When did it break?

It was getting difficult to keep her eyes open; the stars above spinning so fast they made trails on the insides of her eyelids. Was this finally the end? She felt like she’d asked herself that question so many times over the past few months that it didn’t scare her anymore. If she was meant to die wherever it was Draco took her then so be it. 

There was another sharp jab in her chest and she felt herself arch up off the soft grass as she choked on another scream. 

“Hush, darling, it’s alright, it’s alright.” Draco’s voice sounded bloated in her ears. What was he so worried about? It was her that was dying. 

Expecting the numbness to start creeping into her extremities the way it had previously when she’d been dying, Forsythia was confused to feel herself warming slightly. It felt like somebody was drawing their wand tip over her chest and then her across her shoulder. 

“- she’s already healing, calm down.” There was breath, a choked exhale, and then blood on her lips; Draco’s blood. It mixed with the mess of the other Death Eater’s, and the taste was bizarre. She could smell somebody else with them, though, somebody who smelled like damp earth, and too many herbs to separate them from each other. There was something sweet under it, something floral she couldn’t place. 

Since they had an audience, it seemed, Forsythia allowed him to let his blood dribble into her mouth and did not grab for him or jerk up to bite him to get it to flow faster. She heard one of his rings clink against glass, and then his blood carried the faint taste of a replenishing potion. 

“Can you stand?” 

Her eyes fluttered open, though she didn’t know at what point she’d closed them. She let her head roll from side to side a couple of times to clear it, and when she could finally focus she met Draco’s anxious expression, “Maybe,” she breathed, reaching for him. 

He hauled her up and a very intense pressure squeezed her head as the world swam around her dizzyingly. She realized once everything stopped spinning that they were by the lake, hidden from view of the castle by a thicket of mulberry bushes. Snape was kneeled next to them, tucking the now empty potion bottle into his cloak. She had to lean heavily into Draco, but she could stand for the most part. 

“As long as she isn’t cursed again between now and whenever it is that Potter decides to get on with it she’ll be fine,” Snape said, addressing Draco instead of Forsythia herself. 

“Thank you, Severus. We can add it to the growing list of things I owe you for.” 

Snape swore, yanking his sleeve up and then sneering down at the undulating tattoo, “It appears I’m being summoned,” he said, hesitating for a moment before letting out a sigh and looking back to Draco. 

“There’s too much to say, Draco.” 

Much to her confusion, the potions master extended his hand. Draco took it, his expression grave, “You’ve kept me safe, I release you from my mother’s vow.” There was a faint light around Snape’s forearm, and then he disapparated silently. 

Forsythia looked up at Draco, more confusion bubbling up in her and making her feel agitated, “What was that about?”

“I’ll tell you when we’re safe.” 

He used his wand to cut a piece of his cloak off, then wiped her face gently. “I’d use a cleansing charm but I can’t remember any of them right now,” he whispered, eyes glassy. 

“I can clean it, I’m fine,” she whispered back. 

Draco shook his head, “I’ll take care of you, we just need..I need somewhere to rest for a moment.” 

They headed back towards the castle, though they stayed in the shadows and went inside through a hole blasted through the south side of the first floor. Forsythia wished they’d had time to bring a bag with changes of clothes. In all black, they both would stick out like sore thumbs amongst the pajama and muggle clothing clad students and Order members. 

Draco said, just under his breath so she’d be able to hear him, that the other Death Eaters had been summoned away from the castle. Apparently, The Dark Lord was offering an hour or so of peace in return for Harry to be brought to him. 

“Won’t he notice we’re not there?” 

“Maybe. I’m sure he’ll assume we’re dead.” 

She kept quiet after that. 

They’d crept their way back to the main hall, but stayed back out of sight just in case anybody was keeping guard. Forsythia had to grab onto Draco to keep herself upright and to also keep herself from following the overwhelming scent of blood. From the smell of it, the Great Hall had been set up as a hospital of sorts. 

She could hear Madam Pomfrey fluttering about the room, and even heard Professor Flitwick casting healing charms over several students. Her wand tingled in her hand. Though she’d never used them, she understood the basic principle and wondered if she’d be able to cast them successfully herself. The blood was too strong, though, and it was a terrible idea to expose herself in that way, even if she wanted to help. 

There were several students just outside the door, their arms wrapped around each other though they were silent. Several pairs of them were scattered around, but they didn’t seem to notice that she and Draco had entered. Forsythia didn’t want to stun children, not if she could help it. 

The unconscious bodies they’d left there had been cleared away, and somebody had already cleaned the floor. Forsythia was glad for it; she didn’t think she’d be able to face what she’d done just yet. 

Draco held her against his chest and backed them into a secret passageway just off the hall behind a tapestry. 

“Watch the third step, it’s a trick,” he said quietly as he led her up. 

They paused in the middle of the passage and he sank down on a small landing there then helped her settle back against his chest. It was narrow enough that she could comfortably lean her knees into the wall while maintaining her position against him. 

-*-

“You took a curse for me.” 

It had been twenty minutes before Draco spoke. She nodded weakly, “I didn’t even think.” 

“That was stupid. Don’t do that again.” 

She shrugged, not strong enough yet to argue with him about it. Besides, she could feel the affection he had for her pouring off of him in waves. It made her want to sleep, being tucked away with him to herself in a tiny corridor in their old school. 

“What do you think Harry’s going to do?”

“Turn himself over. He’s a gryffindor, he won’t want anybody else to die for him.” 

“Is that..will that work?”

“I’m not sure. Severus said Potter had a piece of The Dark Lord’s soul in him, from when he was a baby. If The Dark Lord kills Potter, then he kills his last chance at surviving a mortal death.” 

“But if Harry’s dead..” 

“If Potter dies, the job falls to me.” 

Her entire body went cold. When she started to argue, Draco pressed his finger to her lips, “Hush. Let me sleep for a moment with you in my arms, alright?” She couldn’t deny him. 

While he slept, his face resting against her shoulder, Forsythia cried. Was she really meant to lose him so soon? They’d broken so many barriers just that night alone, how would she ever go back to living alone on the streets of London?

She cried for so many things; for Harry, who was essentially a pig going to slaughter. For Daniel, who died thinking he wasn’t a good gryffindor. For herself, holding the man who held her captive and made her fall for him in the same breath. For herself, who would eventually be the only one left out of everyone she knew. For herself, holding Draco just as captive as he held her. Each tear that fell was tinged pink from the remaining blood on her face. 

The hour passed. The sun was starting to rise, its blue light trickling down onto the stairs from a high up window. Forsythia glanced at her watch and saw that it was almost five in the morning. Her tears had stopped, and part of her selfishly hoped he knew she’d cried the entire time he’d slept. 

“Draco, I think it’s time to wake up,” she breathed against his ear, kissing his cheek when he stirred. 

“I’m up, I’m up. God, waking up back here is strange. You’d think we were little sixth years falling asleep after sneaking out of bed.” 

He held her for a moment longer before he swore and jerked to look at his arm. “You’re right, it’s time to go.” 

They descended the stairs hand in hand, though Draco paused to flicked his wand at her shirt. It sewed itself back together as they reached the last step. “You were hit with some kind of slicing curse right across your chest. It broke your sternum and your shirt, obviously,” he explained as he ran his hands over her shoulders, probably checking for any other broken parts of her. Forsythia thanked him quietly, a dark sense of foreboding filling her. 

“I’ve got to go rejoin the Death Eaters.” 

“I know.” 

“You should stay out of it. I’ll come for you when..when everything is over.” 

“Should I, er, where should I go? The sun is normally fine, but I’m still weak,” she whispered. Draco nodded thoughtfully, “Here, take my cloak. Stay in the passageway and don’t draw any attention to yourself.” 

He threw his cloak over her shoulders and squeezed her hand, bringing it up to brush his lips over the back of it before releasing her. Slowly, he went back out into the entrance hall. Forsythia only waited two seconds before she crept out after him, too nervous to let him out of her sight so soon. 

It was empty, and from the sound of it, it seemed that the group of students and Order members that had previously filled it and the Great Hall were just outside the front doors. Forsythia could hear their fluttering breathing; many of them were crying. 

Her eyes were locked on his back, his posture tense and rimrod straight. It seemed he slipped back into his role easily now that he was without her at his side. She wanted to run to him, to reach out and grab his elbow and drag him back for one last kiss. It was inevitable that he’d have to go outside, but she wanted just a moment more before he did. There were so many things she should have said before, and now she was left watching him walk away from her again. 

“Draco-!” 

He turned, looking startled. He caught her just as she launched herself at him, gripping her so tight it hurt her still healing wound. Before he could tell her off for not listening to him, Forsythia buried her face into his neck and said the only thing she could think of. 

“Please don’t get yourself killed. I need you to come back to me.” 

Gently, he took her shoulders then ran them down to her waist, setting her down and squeezing her there before bending to kiss her cheek. He gave her a sad smile, but didn’t say anything as he turned from her and continued towards the large oak doors. Draco went out into the weak sun, and Forsythia nearly broke down in tears again at the sight of it. He hadn’t even said goodbye. 

Remembering what he’d asked, and being completely unable to disobey, Forsythia tugged his cloak more tightly around her and waited only a moment more before she took a breath and let herself be enveloped in and comforted by his scent. She’d barely been able to turn away from where he’d disappeared to when a warm hand closed over her shoulder. 

“Come in, darling, come in,” Madam Pomfrey’s voice behind her made her jump. She kept her face down but allowed the woman to shuffle her into the great hall. This was literally the opposite of what Draco told her to do. 

Forsythia swayed as the scent of stale blood hit her. Too many people had bled, and she allowed Madam Pomfrey to guide her to sit lest she lose herself. 

“Here you are, darling, come now.” A warm cup of tea was pressed into her hands. Panicking, Forsythia reverted back to behaving like she had when she was seventeen; when she was human. Her shoulders hunched forward and she tried to keep her eyes down. 

Madam Pomfrey, to her knowledge, had never seen Vampires in person, but she was certain she’d be able to tell Forsythia from the other students lying on cots in neat rows. If she didn’t recognize her first. 

“I-..I’m alright, just tired,” she managed to choke out, praying to any god that would listen that her sudden appearance wouldn’t cause a scene.  _ Please just let them think I’m a student _ , she thought. It would be so much safer if she could just keep her head down until Draco came back. If he came back. She set the tea down on the bench next to her, worried that the nervous tremors in her hands would either make her break the cup to drop it. 

All around her there were bodies. The only thing that separated the alive bodies from the dead bodies was how high up their white sheet was pulled. From where she sat, there were more covered faces than uncovered. 

“I know your voice.”

Like Fred, when she looked up, Professor Flitwick looked like he’d seen a ghost. He stood two rows of bodies from her beside a boy with his face uncovered, but he was very gray. She met his eyes for barely a second when there was a sharp pull in her chest. 

“Miss Black?” He asked, his wand down at his side as if he had forgotten about it. 

Another sharp tug that made her gasp out in pain. Her wound was still healing, but the bond didn’t seem to care. There wasn’t any time to answer him. The bond forced her to her feet and carried her out of the great hall, through the entrance hall, and then out into the sun. Nobody tried to stop her as she went, and she hoped nobody would try to come after her. Her worry for anyone else was short lived as the bond took over completely and all she thought of was Draco. 

Her legs shook with the effort it took to move in the light, and she barely made it into the throngs of people she couldn’t be bothered to properly look at before she saw Draco walking awkwardly through the empty space in the courtyard between the two groups of people; half in muggle clothes and school uniforms and the other half in all black. Between the groups, piles of still burning debris littered the usually immaculate yard. 

There was a sharp pain in her chest, across her collar bones and into her sternum. The bones felt more stable, but now in the sun she was weakened. With a hand pressed over her chest, she forced herself on, even though she was hunched over. 

“Ah, your Vampire comes, too, Draco. We will have to reward its loyalty.” 

The high, cruel voice made her grimace and gag as her feet forced her to go faster to him. In a moment of clarifty brought on by the sudden realization that she was walking towards not only Draco, but also Voldemort himself, she went right by a familiar, matching pair of ginger heads. As she passed she reached down and squeezed Fred’s hand. If she was going to die, she wanted him to know that she still could tell them apart. 

“Thia!” He shouted, starting to go after her but George held him back. 

She couldn’t turn to him, though. The bond was urging her on and she was too weak to fight it again. 

With Draco’s long cloak sweeping around and behind her, Forsythia went to his side. As she passed Voldemort and his amused expression, she ducked her head, hand still holding her upper body together as she moved. There was a moment, right as she passed where her skin tingled, and as she looked up she met Voldemort’s red eyes without realizing how closely he was watching her. 

There was a tearing in her mind, a sharp shock that rattled her so hard she nearly fell on her face. 

“Yes, I believe a reward will be in order for the Vampire.” 

Voldemort’s voice made the shock intensify until she couldn’t even see straight. All around her, shapes blurred together as the edges of her vision started to go gray. The only clear thing were those red eyes holding her hostage until he blinked and looked away, breaking whatever it was he’d done to her. 

She jerked forward, scrambling and stumbling to catch up with Draco before anything worse could happen to her. The pain was now a dull throbbing at the base of her skull, and she knew as long as she could make it back to Draco that she’d be alright. He’d keep her safe and she could return the favor if her head and chest would just give her a hint of relief. 

His hand was reached backwards, waiting for hers, and then a woman who looked shockingly like him but with dark hair grabbed them both and pulled them to her. Forsythia felt herself relax the moment they touched, and she felt her knees buckle. 

Draco caught her, rushing to lock his arm around her to keep her upright. 

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?” The woman behind them demanded, hissing and holding both of them tighter to her. Forsythia felt her take some of her weight from Draco, too, her thin fingers bruising on her arm. 

“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” Draco whispered back to her, resting his hand over hers on his arm. Forsythia turned her head away from the sun and into Draco’s chest instead. What was the point in pretending that they weren’t so casual with their affection? The woman behind them didn’t let up, though, clutching them both so tightly Forsythia was worried she was hurting herself. 

“Harry Potter is dead!” The high voice was terribly joyous. Somebody screamed. There was a disbelieving murmur in the crowd of students, broken sobs and shouts of fury, and then Professor Hagrid stepped forward. He was being pulled along in chains by several Death Eaters. In his arms, he carried Harry’s body. Icy devastation plunged through her. 

Draco’s hand was so tight in hers she was worried their bones would break, but it helped her stay silent despite wanting nothing more than to scream, too, and go after The Dark Lord herself. 

The woman behind them, too, tightened her grip. She let out a resigned sigh, and Forsythia thought for some reason that maybe she already knew that Harry was dead. Her anger flared again and she thought of ripping herself away from both she and Draco. Their chance was gone. Harry was dead. 

Draco had already told her if Harry died it would be up to him. Though this did nothing to soothe the pain in the pit of her stomach, she knew Draco would stop at nothing to kill the snakelike man standing mere feet from them. She planned, as she always did now, that if he was going into battle she’d be right there with him. 

Noise drew her attention away from the humans around her and instead back towards the castle. While most of the Death Eaters around her were laughing jovially, there was something louder growing across the courtyard. 

Students were shouting and screaming, their wands drawn and their faces tear stained and red. Teachers had joined them, now, too, along with more Order members. She recognized both Professor Lupin and Kingsley Shacklebolt among them, looking exhausted and as devastated as she felt. The loss of Harry was heavy, but the possible loss of Draco, too, was too much to process. Her cheeks stung as a breeze picked up. 

The woman behind her and Draco leaned in and whispered something in his ear. The sun was starting to make her feel sick on top of everything else, but then Draco shifted next to her and she glanced up at him and followed his gaze back to Harry’s limp body. 

_ Does he have a heartbeat? _

Draco’s voice floated through her head like it was her own thought. Forsythia scowled weakly, but closed her eyes and focused. From where she was, and with the breeze, she caught his scent. Cherry, water lily, oak. She tuned out the shouting and let the air carry the sound to her. 

It was there, beating loud and obvious now that she’d focused on it. 

There had been so many emotions already, so much death and fear and horror, that Forsythia could not find the energy within herself to feel anything more than the most gentle relief. Harry was alive. Draco wouldn’t have to sacrifice himself. 

Almost imperceptibly, she nodded once. Draco took out his wand, his eyes now locked on Harry as he waited. Forsythia guessed, too, that any second Harry would leap to action like any self respecting gryffindor would. Or, at least, she hoped. 

Unaware of what had transpired, Voldemort had continued speaking over the crowd of students, staff, and Order members. It sounded like he was attempting to convince them to join him, to become Death Eaters themselves. He spoke as if he truly had no idea that barely two hundred feet from him, Harry lay in waiting, very much alive and hopefully ready to keep fighting. 

She counted thirty seconds before it happened. 

He burst down from Hagrid’s arms, landing and breaking out into a sprint across the courtyard. There were screams of shock and of triumph as the crowd of students started to turn back to rush into the castle ahead of him. The war was back on.

“Potter!” 

  
Draco’s voice rang out just as Harry neared them, the other Death Eaters too stunned it seemed to do more than start their own shouting. He tossed Harry his own wand, which he caught without breaking his stride, and then Draco dragged Forsythia back towards the castle. The woman, she guessed his mother from the way she had clung so tightly to them, shrieked for them to come back. 

“Run, out of the sun, out of the sun!” Draco shouted, and they joined the pack of students rushing back inside. The fight exploded around them, and she was the only one of them that had a wand. Using his momentum against him, she swung him around behind her and stayed pressed flat back against him, her wand raised and ready. 

Now that Draco outed himself by giving Harry his wand in front of everyone, every Death Eater that came within cursing distance of them tried to kill them. Forsythia cast too many shield charms to count. Eventually, stunners didn’t do enough. Like Draco had told her, she had to mean it if she was going to start killing people. Or, killing people again, rather. Only this time, she knew she’d have to use  _ Avada Kedavra  _ seeing as they wouldn’t have the time for her to drag it out. 

She’d have to mean it. 

The first one physically hurt her. It was like her wand hiccuped over the curse as she sent it flying at a masked Death Eater. It shot back into her wrist and then up her arm like a bolt of lightning. She didn’t know who the Death Eater was, didn’t care, either. She watched as they fell and a new, darker sense of power settled over her. If the person was dressed in all black, masked or unmasked, they were killed. There was no hesitation after the first time, and she counted six before people started to run away at the sight of them. Maybe they’d finally realized who she was. 

Bless that reputation she’d built at Oak Grove. 

Barely ten minutes in another Death Eater rushed them, their Vampire just behind them looking half crazed. Forsythia sent a slicing jinx at the Death Eater, who fell instantly as their throat burst open. The Vampire paused, meeting her eyes before reaching up to take off their mask. 

Forsythia crouched lower, eyes trained on the other as he dropped the mask and smirked at her. “Fancy meetin’ you here. Ya alright?” Jonathan Francis-Curt. She would know his voice and condescending smirk anywhere. Part of her was very glad he was alive, but the other part was annoyed that he’d turned up again. 

“You can leave. He’s dead so that means you’re free.” She spat at him, working to keep Draco behind her as much as possible. 

“Why would I waste such a perfectly convenient meal?” asked Jonathan, his blue eyes flashing dangerously. Forsythia turned away in disgust as he dove down at the Death Eater’s lifeless body. 

“If you’re done you should go.” She called to him a few minutes later. The sound of his feeding had quieted, and when she looked back he’d moved closer to her and Draco, a curious expression on his face. There was blood all down his front.

“Keepin’ that one for yourself, then?” He asked, nodding towards Draco. Forsythia nodded once, “Please leave. Go somewhere safe.” 

“You keep wantin’ me to go so I’ll go. It was a pleasure doing time with you Miss Black. Perhaps we’ll meet again some day.” And with that, he vanished back out into the sun. 

“You’ve got such weird friends,” Draco drawled, picking her up around her waist and moving them both backward, packing in tighter against the wall behind them. 

A group of younger students had accumulated behind her and Draco, and she pinpointed them all by smell and kept them tucked in tightly by shooting stunners behind her if any of them tried to move forward or out from where she could protect them. That was, at least, until Hermione and Ron ended up on either side of her. 

“Bloody hell, Forsythia, that’s quite the pile of bodies,” Ron choked, nudging her with his shoulder in a strange show of affection. Hermione told him to leave her alone, and she and Forsythia jerked to send shield charms up as a lone Death Eater tried to crucio them. 

“Give it up, mate!” Draco shouted over her shoulder. When the Death Eater turned on the spot and vanished, he wrapped his arms around Forsythia’s waist and rested his chin on her shoulder, “Good old Theodore Nott. I suspect he’ll send an owl in a few weeks with an apology for trying to curse us,” he murmured, turning to kiss her neck. Their part of the castle was totally quiet, now, other than the sniffling and random sobs from the students behind them. 

His lips moved across her skin smoothly, warm and soft and promising while he drummed his fingers against her hips. He paused where his cloak cut him off from her bare skin, grumbling and tugging the fabric away so he could focus on the junction of her neck and shoulder the way he wanted.

“Why are you so affectionate?” she asked, winking at Hermione when she stared wide eyed at the state of Draco’s still lovebitten neck. It was a little more difficult to maneuver with him holding her, but it seemed that most of the remaining Death Eaters had fled. 

“My mother told me I have her blessing with you. There’s no reason to hold back anymore.” 

It was awkward being with Ron, Hermione, and a group of Hogwarts students when she heard this, and, despite their expressions ranging from confusion to shock, she turned around and kissed him full on the mouth. They’d lived. His mother apparently approved of them being affectionate, at least, though she didn’t know how far that reached. Would she approve if they were properly together? Forsythia didn’t know, didn’t care, because he was kissing her back and her hands were in his hair and the rest of the world melted away for just a moment. 

“Oi! Enough of that, we’ve got a war to finish, unless you’ve forgotten.” Ron’s voice made her pull back, though Draco sank forward further to kiss the rune on her cheek. “Where did Harry go?” Forsythia asked, feeling less ill now that they’d been out of the sun. 

“He ran back to the covered bridge, though I think Seamus and Neville blew it up so I don’t know where he thinks he’s going.” 

Hermione turned around and told the students to go back back into the Great Hall, and then she, Ron, Forsythia, and Draco took off towards the bridge. 


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smut warning. also wholesome family dinner. in that order!

As they went crashing through the wrecked halls, Ron called over his shoulder to them, “Thia, go up ahead, stop running at human speed!” 

So, with a grin aimed at Draco, she let herself relax into the run. She felt the air whistle around her as she let her stride lengthen. Shooting past Ron and then Hermione, she let out a breathless laugh, filled with a sudden joy she’d not felt in so many months; she felt free. 

Her joy didn’t last. The courtyard that led to the bridge came up quickly, and she stopped moving just as easily as she’d started. An intense, heavy dread filled her as her eyes adjusted. There were only two people out in the sun; Harry on the right and Voldemort on the left. Harry’s left hand was outstretched, a second wand held aloft while Voldemort stood, seemingly shocked, on the other end of the yard unarmed. 

As if in slow motion, she watched as Voldemort’s body twisted and fell. His knees hit the ground first, then he tipped forward and fell flat on his face. 

Forsythia stared open mouthed. The only heartbeat in the area was Harry’s, and it was strong and sure in his chest. “Is he..?” She asked, jerking as the other three came into view. 

Harry looked over at her, exhausted it seemed as he fell to his knees and nodded. Ron and Hermione went to him, and Draco took Forsythia into his arms once more. 

“It’s done. It’s over.” 

Harry’s voice was barely audible, but it felt like he’d shouted it right in her face as more joy than she thought possible overwhelmed her. They had to tell everyone. Somehow they had to get the word out. It was finally over. 

She watched as Harry, shaking slightly, conjured his patronus and sent it streaking past them and back towards the front of the school. 

Once he was able to stand, the five of them walked back to the Great Hall together in silence. It seemed that there were not words strong enough to share. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were met with the loudest cheers Forsythia had ever heard outside of the quidditch stadium. 

She and Draco had scooted off to the side, away from everyone else and into a quiet corner of the room where he pulled her in close and took his cloak from her. “With him..dead, the contract should fade. I don’t know how many of the other Death Eaters were killed, but the contract will become less and less powerful with each signer who’s..gone, now.” 

“So let’s say you’re the only one still alive. Are the others free?” 

“In theory. Without anyone tied to the other end of the mastering charm they’ve been placed under there would be nobody to command them.” 

“So, still saying you’re the only one left, I’d still be under your command?” 

“Yes.” 

“And the muzzle would still work for me?” 

“‘Work’ is an interesting way of putting it, but yes, the mask would still be usable.” 

He sounded cautious. Forsythia held her hand out, “I’ll take my mask back for the time being, it’s really bloody in here still.” For a moment she thought he was going to argue with her, but then slowly he handed the mask over after withdrawing it from a pocket in his cloak. 

“Go on then,” he said, nodding as she took it from him. Forsythia pressed it up against her face and sighed, almost comforted as it held its place. She was certain that taking the curse for him would have broken it, but maybe in a few weeks once things calmed down they’d be able to pick up where they left off in the rowhouse to end it once and for all if it didn’t fade as he’d said. 

“Thia?” 

Fred’s voice made her jump, and she peered around Draco to see where he’d called her from. He looked the same, though a little dirty and roughed up from the battle. His hair was shorter than it had been the last time she’d seen him years prior, and he’d filled out so that he wasn’t quite as lanky. 

“Hi,” she breathed back. Draco looked between the two of them and cleared his throat awkwardly, “Should go get my wand back from Potter,” he murmured, giving her a measured look before disappearing into the now babbling crowd of people. 

Fred’s eyes were locked on the muzzle, his expression unsure. Forsythia gulped, “Sorry, it’s..there’s a lot of blood in the air, you know,” she explained awkwardly. 

He blinked a couple of times before he took an unsure step forward, “I..well, I never thought I’d ever see you again after..,” he trailed off, cheeks going pink and jaw setting. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, his voice shaking with anger. 

“Everyone thought I was dead. I was confused and lost for a while. I’m..back now, though.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

She blinked at him, confused. “Tell you what?” 

“I..Thia, I waited for you all of Christmas holiday to come to the burrow. When you didn’t show I thought..and then the paper came out and…” 

Slowly, as she had with Draco, Forsythia moved forward and held her arms open, “I’m sorry. Once I’m registered with the ministry and my wand is snapped I’ll come see you so we can have a proper discussion about it, okay?” 

He looked at her arms then back at her, his eyes zeroing in on the mask again. She watched him hesitate for a second longer and started to put her arms down. Nearly tripping over himself, Fred jerked forward and gathered her up against him. At once he surrounded her; lavender, wildflowers, gunpowder. She held him right back, whispering against his shoulder that she was sorry. 

“You know,” he said, dragging her through the throngs of people once they’d separated themselves, “we never actually broke up, which means Malfoy and me have got to figure out some kind of arrangement.” Forsythia snorted, not too exhausted to laugh at his joke, as they reached where his family had taken up a row of benches. 

All of the Weasleys were there, even who she guessed were Bill and Charlie, whom she’d never met but had heard stories of. Harry and Ginny were sitting close together with their arms around each other. Briefly she wondered if Draco had gotten his wand and was giving her some privacy or if he couldn’t find them and was still looking for Harry.

“Look who I found taking out Death Eaters even though she sort of is one!” His voice made the family all startle as if waking up suddenly. George grabbed her first, giving her a quick one armed hug before leaning back and saying, “I like the face thing, Thia, adds to the dangerous persona you’re putting on. Oh, and I’m glad you’re not dead.” 

Mrs. Weasley looked apprehensive at first before Fred gave her an encouraging nod. “Well, dear, of course we’re glad you’re still here with us, just a bit of a shock is all,” she said, giving her a tight though cautious hug as well. Fred introduced her to Charlie and then to Bill, both of whom looked exhausted. 

“And you know my dad,” Fred said, turning her towards Arthur. “Hi,” she said, holding her hand out for him. He took it, giving her a kind smile, “Hello, Forsythia. Harry’s just told us what a help you were.” 

“Oh, did he?” She asked, glancing at where Harry was now lifting Ginny into his lap to inspect a wound on her arm. She quickly looked away, keeping her eyes down as Arthur continued his praise. They probably could use some privacy, especially since it seemed they were definitely together. 

“-wouldn’t have had a chance if it wasn’t for you! That’s what he told us.” 

Forsythia smiled under her mask, “It was a team effort. Without Draco and Severus I wouldn’t have even had the opportunity to help in the first place.” 

“Draco? Draco Malfoy?” Arthur asked, looking thoroughly perplexed. Forsythia nodded, “He’s the one who made sure Severus would be able to get Order members out of Oak Grove. Have you seen Professor Snape? I’ve been meaning to ask if he has any blood replenishing potions left over.” 

There was silence. As she looked up, none of the Weasleys were looking at her. “What?” She asked, glancing between them all. 

“Well..Snape was killed last night. We think He Who Must Not Be Named found out that he’d been playing double agent for the Order and..well, had him disposed of.” Mr. Weasley explained. 

She remembered him being summoned at the lake, remembered in exact detail how Draco had released him from a vow and how he’d told Draco there was too much to say as they shook hands. 

“I..need to sit down,” she said. Fred took her elbow and steered her to the bench beside Charlie. It felt like she was going to be sick, but then Fred’s hand was on her knee and he was giving her a soft smile, “It’ll be alright, Thia. Now that it’s over.” She couldn’t help but agree. At least the hardest part was over. 

“You’re a Vampire, aren’t you?” Charlie asked, looking curiously at the mask a few minutes later. Fred stuck his arm around her shoulders, “Yes, Charlie, that’s how it would seem.” 

“Is the mask to keep something out or your fangs in?” He asked, grinning when Forsythia managed to meet his eyes. “Fangs in,” she answered dryly. 

He looked intrigued, but before he could ask any more questions, Draco appeared in front of them, wand in hand. So he  _ had  _ been giving her some private time. “We should go home, Thia. We need to speak privately.” 

She turned to Fred and promised again that she’d be in touch. He looked between them, confused, “Wait, you’re not leaving with  _ him _ ?” He demanded, then grumbled under his breath that they hadn’t even figured out her custody arrangement yet. 

“What’s he on about?” Draco asked, catching her hand and pulling him up and into his chest. “Fred thinks because we never properly broke up that you and him have to figure out a schedule to spend time with me,” she breathed, comforted by his proximity. 

He raised an eyebrow and snorted, “I’ll send you an owl, then, Wealsey,” he said, and to her surprise he held out his hand to Fred. They shook, both seemingly in rather good moods, and Forsythia bade them goodbye. 

“Come to ours for dinner next week! Both of you!” Mrs. Weasley called as she fluttered over to help Harry heal Ginny’s arm. Draco bent, his lips brushing over the top of Forsythia’s head before he turned them on the spot. 

Landing in the back garden never felt so good. She threw the mask off and launched herself into the rowhouse, calling for Hisky at the top of her lungs until the elf collided with her shin. 

Forsythia dropped down into her knees and hugged the elf desperately, “We’re safe, we’re back, everything’s amazing. He lost, Hisky, The Dark Lord is gone.” She finally let herself cry, the joy too overpowering to handle. Hisky let out a wail and clung right back to her, “Hisky knew it, Miss Thia, Hisky knew you would not fail!” 

Draco dropped down next to them on the kitchen floor, silent and exhausted as he leaned his head back against the cabinets and let his eyes close. 

“Is Master Draco alright?” Hisky asked, wiping her eyes on her terry cloth towel dress. Draco nodded, “Tired. My arm-,” he jerked forward, eyes suddenly wide and face contorted with pain as he gripped his left forearm.

Forsythia pushed herself over, taking his arm in her hands, too, and watching as the mark slowly disappeared into itself. As soon as it was gone, Draco relaxed, panting but still conscious. 

“Let’s go to bed. You can sleep for as long as you’d like,” she offered, already looping his right arm over her shoulders and hauling him up. It was difficult getting up the stairs, but the moment they were in his room Draco dragged her down into bed with him. 

“I guess there’s no risk in sharing a bed anymore is there?” She teased as she pushed his cloak from his shoulders and set both of their wands on his bedside table. “No, I suppose not,” he breathed back, locking his arms around her once they were settled again. 

“How long do you think the mastering charm and contracts will last?” 

“That depends on when I wake up next.” 

A pleasant shiver rushed up her spine, and she tucked her head under his chin and counted his breaths as he fell asleep. 

In a week, they’d be having dinner at the burrow with the Wealsey’s. Forsythia wondered if Sirius would be there, too. It would be nice to be around people again, to learn how to interact properly. She let herself daydream about it for the remainder of the day, and well into the night. 

She let herself grieve again. It was only a few shuddering breaths and some stray tears, but it felt good to mourn everything she’d lost. Even though her chest ached, once it was over she felt much better and was able to settle comfortably into Draco once more. 

-*-

Sixteen hours later, Draco stirred. He’d moved around in his sleep and had her crushed almost completely under him with his head resting on her shoulder. “Morning,” she whispered, kissing his forehead. There was a tiny silver scar there she’d not yet catalogued. She kissed it again. 

“Time is it?” He asked, stretching and letting out a sleepy groan as his joints cracked. 

Forsythia shrugged, “Probably time to get back to sleep. It’s still dark out.” 

“No, I promised when I woke up…” 

She blinked at him as he lifted his head and met her eyes, “You didn’t promise me anything before you went to sleep.” 

He gave her a tired looking smirk, “Oh, I must not have said it out loud. No matter. Stay here,” he said, pushing himself up out of bed and into his bathroom. 

Forsythia waited. The shower turned on, then off, then he came back out with his hair dripping wet in nothing but a towel slung low on his hips. He had new bruises where he’d either been hit with curses or where they’d smacked into each other from moving so close together. His neck was still a sight, as well; still mottled with love bites. 

“Now then, I think we were…” he trailed off, letting his towel fall to the floor before climbing on top of her. She kept her eyes firmly on his, “Oh, is that what we’re going to do then?” She asked, reaching for the button of her trousers while he slid in between her legs. If she was quick enough they’d both be naked before he had time to force her to go slowly. More than anything, she didn’t want to go slowly. 

It never came, though, him slowing them down. Not when she yanked and threw her clothes off, and certainly not as Draco pressed himself into her.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Not even a little bit.” 

He was careful, tender, as he urged his hips forward further. Forsythia let out a sigh, her eyes rolling and her hands clutching tightly to his wrists. She knew he wouldn’t let her go, but she wanted him to know she never wanted him to. 

Draco groaned thickly above her, “Fuck, Thia.” Her name sounded dirtier than his swear. Her eyelids fluttered as she forced herself to look back up at him, the sight not disappointing in any way. 

His head was leaned down, determination lining his face as strand by strand the front sections of his hair fell over his forehead. The muscles in his torso quivered, like he was straining to hold himself back. His breath shivered out of him as she shifted her hips. “ _ Fuck _ ,” he hissed, pinning her down tightly to the bed so she couldn’t move again. 

Her stomach swooped. She could see his resolve waning, and wanted nothing more than for him to get a move on. Since he was busy keeping her hips still, Forsythia crossed her legs behind his back and pulled. 

Both of them swore, though Draco sounded like he was choking but she felt like she was finally properly able to breathe. Forsythia locked her arms around him next, guiding him down to kiss her again. It was tame, chaste almost, despite the position they were in. She felt her body tighten around him, and Draco’s hips snapped forward automatically into the feeling. 

He rasped against her lips, his scent curling all around her like an open invitation.  _ Don’t bite _ , she whined to herself, then whined out loud as Draco inched his hips back and pressed into her again. 

“Alright?” He asked, sounding shaky himself. 

“Y-Yeah,” she responded, twisting her head to the side and tightening around him again as he kissed and bit her neck now that he had the room to do so. The tension eased. 

He worked her up easily, grinding harder into her and moaning against her neck that she was beautiful and perfect. Forsythia felt herself warm at the praise. If only it would last. 

Draco caught her in another gentle kiss, though now he was laying into her so hard they both were jolted with the force of it. It was such an intense contrast that Forsythia felt the bond slip past her hold on it. Next thing she knew, she was jerking her hips up to meet his as much as he’d let her. 

He bit her lip before he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Once more, his scent called to her. Forsythia cut their kiss short in favor of guiding him back to her neck. He looked confused that she’d pulled away so quickly, but dove back to her throat nonetheless. 

The bond urged her to grab his hair, so she did. That made him groan against her and kiss back up her neck until he was level with her ear, “Trying not to bite?” 

She nodded, crying out as Draco released one of her hips and pressed his fingers against her. He sat back, eyes locked on her face as he circled his fingers until he trapped her clit between his first and middle. 

The very human urge to breathe hard made her shudder, and Draco matched her breath, “You're so sexy when I’m getting you off.” 

His expression darkened when she arched hard under him. He’d put more pressure on her, and the pleasure from it was dizzying. If he kept going this fast she knew it would all be over in a matter of minutes, probably for both of them. 

The bond surged again, and Forsythia found herself catching him around the chest and flipping them over. Draco sprawled on his back, both hands shooting out to wrap around her hips with his fingers squeezing tightly into her backside. Now that she was atop him, her confidence wavered; she’d never done this before.

Previously, Fred had been too dominant in bed to allow this sort of thing, from what she could remember. The memory of him taking control made her stomach flip again. 

Draco guided her, though, before too long had passed. He used his thumbs to tip her hips forward and let her grind down into him once she found a position that made her entire body burn with pleasure. 

He grinned, meeting her movements with some of his own that only pushed her pleasure further. It was intense, so much so that she felt her body pulse and squeeze him like a vice. She could barely speak, the pleasure was mounting and Draco had that determined look in his eye as her noises cut short and she bit down on her lip as it surged. 

“There’s a good girl, come on, Thia. I’ve got you.” 

Her body convulsed, and then she was kissing him listlessly while Draco held her very still again. He kissed her back, chuckling and smiling into it. Her body responded to him almost instantly, and she rolled her hips experimentally down into his again. 

Draco swore, but didn’t stop her as she sat up and was a bit more gentle with him. That wasn’t what he wanted though, because he only allowed this for a few seconds before he urged her to move against him as she had previously. 

“You said earlier your mom gave us her blessing?” She prompted, panting though the need wasn’t there; it just felt like the right thing to do since Draco had started to, again. 

“You want to talk about that now?” He asked, his voice strained as he cradled her hips and pushed up into her in time with her motions downward into him. 

“Yes,” she said, grinning, “What’s that entail, exactly?” 

Draco growled at her, turning them easily and picking up where he’d left off before she’d taken control and used him to pleasure herself: one of her thighs in his hand and pressed back towards her chest and his lips on hers as he thrust hard into her. 

Forsythia sucked on his tongue, grinning as he pulled back and shook his head at her in mocking disapproval, “It entails whatever I want it to,” he snapped, though his expression softened as his rhythm faltered slightly. 

“Aw, are you going to come before you can tell me the whole story?” She asked, using her free leg to force him tighter against her. If she was honest, she was also very close to finishing herself again, and therefore had no room to tease him. They’d been going at it for thirty minutes already, so she couldn’t really blame him. 

To her dismay, Draco slowed down until he was barely grinding his hips into hers, “Acting tough?” He prompted, smirking when she cried out in frustration as the edge of her pleasure slipped away. 

“My mother’s blessing means that I’m allowed to have you as I please, from her perspective, and she’ll accept that. Now, hush so we can both finish.” 

He wasn’t kidding, when she tried to snap back at him he put his hand over her mouth and started slamming into her again, his head bent forward and his jaw set. When she kissed and kitten-licked his palm, he groaned that she was a stubborn brat.

He finished before she did, sighing her name between his teeth as he pushed as deeply into her as he could, but the second he caught his breath he dove down between her thighs and used his tongue on her until she was screaming his name around the fingers he’d pressed into her mouth. 

Once he scooted back up to be face to face with her, his expression smug, he said, “I told you I’d make you scream for me.” 

Forsythia let out a shaky giggle, “You did, twice now.” 

There was something different now between them, as there had been when their bond solidified. It felt light, as if some kind of weight had been lifted off of both of them. In the air all around them, there was a new ease. The contract was broken. 

That made his expression warm, “Indeed.” He kissed her, then, and it felt like a response to their kiss in the greenhouse. It felt like a promise, and when he turned her gently over to rest against his chest, he asked shyly, “Was that alright?” 

“It was wonderful. Or was my screaming not enough?” 

“I didn’t think you’d be so...warm.” 

Forsythia hummed, “I didn’t know what it would be like once we, er, properly got on with it.” 

“Me neither. Good job not biting, I was a bit worried about that.” 

“I thought about it a couple times, but you kept leaning back so that made it easier not to.” 

“I’m sure with time it’ll be even easier.” He teased, reaching over to brush his fingers over her bare hip. Forsythia remembered the vow he’d released Severus from, but wanted to give them both some time to come down from how amazing it had been to finally be together. 

Draco shifted her, sliding his hand down her hip to her thigh, her thigh to her knee, and curled around it. He guided her up to rest over his waist and that only prefaced another round of warm, listless kisses. 

With the contract broken, it felt like the bond, too, eased just slightly. There was no intense push to have sex again, as if it was satiated with their work at least for the night. 

“What was it that you released Severus from?” She asked him a couple hours into their affectionate cuddling. Draco’s fingers froze where he’d been tracing patterns across her back. He hesitated for only a moment long enough to clear his throat.

“My mother and Snape made a vow that he would protect me until The Dark Lord was finished. I released him from that vow so he could die free from it.” 

“You knew he was going to die?” Draco’s fingers picked up and he started tracing again. “Yes. When he was called but I wasn’t, I knew.” 

“I’m..I’m sorry.” 

Draco didn’t respond until another hour had passed, “My father died, as well. After Azkaban he wasn’t really himself anymore, but..it feels strange knowing it’s just my mother in the manor.” 

Forsythia sat back from where she’d been kissing the scars on his chest, “I’m so sorry.” She wasn’t sure what else to say. When her parents died, she’d brushed off every attempt her friends had at comforting her. 

He gave her a grim smile, “All’s fair in love and war, no?” Forsythia frowned, but went back to kissing over his scars again. 

In the back of her mind a question struck. He’d said before that once one contract broke all of them would. But at the battle theirs had remained intact despite others from the division dying, some at her own hand. When she asked him, he shrugged, “Death doesn’t break the contract, only love can. I highly doubt any of your Vampire friends  _ loved  _ any of the people they were assigned to.” 

She remembered Blaise and Ash. 

She went through her memories of the night, swiftly avoiding anything to do with Daniel. At some point she’d tell Draco about him, but it was still too fresh. 

In all the chaos of her running around the castle she hadn’t seen any sign of Blaise or Ash, and thought that odd. 

“Ash might have.” 

Draco let out a soft sigh. 

“Blaise wouldn’t allow him to.” 

“Are they still alive?” 

Another moment of hesitation. 

“Yes, but don’t ask me where.” 

They stayed tucked away in his room for another day before Hisky demanded they come out to have some food. She’d made Forsythia a steaming cup of tea and lined up four potions for her across from the largest stack of pancakes she’d ever seen, which she guessed were for Draco. 

“I’ll have to learn how to brew that myself now, won’t I?” She asked him several minutes later, indicating the now empty bottles in front of her. She felt warm and satisfied being so full for the first time in days. Draco nodded, taking his last bite of eggs before thanking Hisky for taking such good care of them. 

Hisky looked fiercely up at him, “Master Draco is a good wizard and Hisky is more than happy to be the one who’s serving him and Miss Thia.” With that, she took away his plate and the empty potion bottles and disapparated with a soft pop. 

“Well,” he said, looking back at Forsythia across the table, “back to the shag cave then?” He asked, winking. Forsythia scrunched her nose at him, though it was nice to see this new extra playful side of him. “I think so, but let’s not call it that,” she said, taking his hand and allowing him to pull her up into his chest. 

On the next Friday morning, they received an owl from Mrs. Weasley inviting them over for dinner that night. After many whispered and moaned promises that they’d be able to get back to each other after just one night of being around other people, Draco finally let her go back to her room to get ready thirty minutes before they were supposed to leave. 

She took her braid out of her hair and shook it out, though she turned her nose up at how long it was. Hisky made quick work of it, though, cutting off several inches in less than a second and then nodding approvingly before disappearing again. 

“I liked it long,” Draco lamented as he strode in. He looked dashing, too tall to be allowed in a black suit jacket and gray trousers. His white button up had two buttons undone at the top. Forsythia kissed his lips before spinning away to pull on her jeans. She paused, topless, and turned back to him, “It’s still long. Do you have a top I can wear?” She asked, grinning when his eyes darkened possessively. 

“Yes.” 

He flicked his wand and his old Quidditch jumper flew neatly into his hand. When he held it out, she snatched it up and pressed her face into the soft fabric. Draco raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment as she pulled it on over her bra. “You’re about the same size I was when I was a second year,” he said, grabbing her hips when she ventured too close and catching her chin between his fingers before kissing her. 

“We have to go,” she whined against his lips, grabbing his wrist and then tugging him towards the empty fireplace. He chuckled, reaching past her onto the bookshelf and tossing some floo powder over the grate until a great, green fire burst to life. 

“After you, my love,” he said, patting her bum gently as she took a handful of powder for herself and stepped into the flames. She called out ‘the burrow’ and everything started spinning rapidly around her. As soon as a warm kitchen came into view she stepped out and brushed herself off. 

“There you are! Right on time,” Mrs. Weasley called, hurrying over and hugging her tightly. Forsythia hugged her right back, and was delighted at the cinnamon smell that clung to her. 

“Forsythia Black.” 

Mrs. Weasley released her just as a man spoke. Without even thinking, she pushed herself forward and into Sirius’ waiting arms. Despite never knowing him properly, and not having seen him since she was a baby, she knew instantly it was him. She recognized herself in him, recognized their familial signatures that just screamed ‘Black’. 

They both had the same dark hair, the same high, well bred cheekbones. His smell reminded her a bit of Professor Lupin: earthy with a little hint of something distinctly dog-like. 

“Hello cousin!” She said brightly, having to stand up on her toes to squeeze him properly. He squeezed her right back, and she felt some of her nerves melt away. 

“The last time I saw you, you were only two. You’ve grown into a fine witch,” he said, beaming as he held her at arms length. She grinned, the tops her slightly too sharp teeth pressing into her lip. A tiny shock of anxiety went through her as she watched his eyes flicker down to her teeth. He only continued to smile, though, showing no signs of fear or concern, “Alright, then? Okay to be around so many people?” He asked. 

If anyone else had asked she probably would have been offended. “Yes, I’ll be alright. Thank you.” His cheeks tinged with embarrassment, “I only ask because after I got out of Azkaban it was difficult with too much noise and such.” He explained. She couldn’t help but grin again; it felt familiar to have a family member care for her. 

“If I get nervous I’ll let you know,” she said, blinking away the moisture that blurred her vision. 

A hand wrapped around her waist, and she was pulled backwards, suddenly in between both Draco and Fred who seemingly had tried to pull her to them at the same time. 

“Hands off, Weasley, she’s still mine for the next four minutes,” Draco snapped playfully. Fred argued back that they were in his family’s home, so he had priority. 

“No fighting in the house, boys, if you’re going to have a tussle take it out back!” Mrs. Weasley bustled around them, pots and bowls hovering around her before they set themselves along the long wooden table. 

Forsythia was released but scooted back towards Draco as the rush of people entering the room made her head spin a little bit. She’d forgotten in their short time apart how many Weasley children there were. It had been so long since she’d been surrounded like this. Maybe Sirius was right to ask if she’d be alright.

“Remus should be here any minute, come on, everyone, sit down! Where are those four?” Mrs, Weasley said, looking pleasantly frazzled as she called up the stairs that dinner was ready. 

Harry and Ginny appeared first, Harry’s cheeks red and Ginny looking very pleased with herself as she sat down near the other end of the table. Ron and Hermione were slower, though they didn’t look as if they’d been interrupted the same way Ginny and Harry had. 

Forsythia and Draco sat closer to the back door, where a cool draft blew in from under the door. It helped balance the smells of everyone around her and, with Draco’s hand firmly on her thigh she felt relaxed enough to sit back and breathe some. The front door opened and a new smell, a very familiar one, blew in. 

Professor Lupin looked a little suspicious of the two of them, but when Sirius, who was seated on her other side, introduced her to him as his only good cousin, he seemed to relax a little bit. Apparently Sirius did not know that they’d already met. 

He looked much better from the last time she’d seen him: his hair was neatly trimmed, shining golden brown under the warm light of the kitchen, and his face washed in soft pink from the cold. His jumper didn’t have any holes in it and his trousers seemed new. 

Guilt struck her, still, knocking the breath out of her as she watched him sit on Sirius’ other side. Draco squeezed her gently, whispering in her mind that everything was alright. 

Mrs. Weasley interrupted her discomfort by asking her nervously if there was anything she could eat, and Forsythia grinned widely, “No, thank you. I..had something before we left,” she said, pressing her lips together when Draco shivered next to her. She would be the best guest in the entire universe, she decided. The very last thing she wanted was to make a scene. 

“Alright, dear, you just let me know. I can brew a replenishing potion faster than even Severus could,” she said, beaming. Forsythia thanked her and met Harry’s eyes down where he was sitting next to Ginny. He was a welcome distraction. 

“Alright?” He asked, grinning. She nodded, “Yeah, you?” 

“Brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.” Harry’s happiness glowed around him and that warm cherry scent was a comfort. It reminded her of being in the tent with he, Ron, and Hermione. That had been the first time she’d felt like a normal person since being changed, and the memory of it soothed her further. 

“Alright, you lot. Tuck in!” Mrs. Weasley said, and tuck in they all did. Forsythia stayed back, though, buzzing on all the happiness and different scents around her. She found if she matched each person to their particular smell it was easier to process and not so overwhelming. It was a fun game and kept her attention while everyone else stuffed themselves.

Once everyone had had their fill and were all leaning back in their chairs idly chit chatting, Draco took her hand and brought the back of it up to his lips, “I promised Weasley I’d let him speak with you. Will you be alright?” 

She nodded, feeling full but in a different way from the witches and wizards around them. “Even if I bite him it’s not like he’ll complain,” she said with a wink. 

Draco snorted, then nodded down at Fred who was watching them intensely. As soon as Draco had met his eyes, he was already pushing his chair back and striding over. 

He took her out to their back garden and sat down on the back steps, “No mask tonight?” He asked, looking over the runes in her skin. 

“No, I don’t think it works now. The mastering charm and contract are essentially void, so the magic in the muzzle is as well.” 

Fred was quiet for a moment before he shifted his upper body to face her, “Will you tell me what happened?” 

“You’ll have to be more specific, there’s been a lot in the last seven months alone.” 

“At the Leaky Cauldron, and then from when you got taken by Death Eaters.” 

Forsythia took a deep breath, wavering on if she should share it with him, but decided that she did owe him some kind of explanation. So, after leaning back more comfortably, she started with the night she had met with Bernadette and the other girls from their dorm right before Christmas. Once that story was over, and Fred was sufficiently more pale than he had been previously, she jumped right into the next. 

“And now,” she finished, gesturing around, “I’m sitting in your back garden with you while the wizarding world rejoices in The Dark Lord’s death.” 

He took a few minutes to process it all, and then he turned to her and cautiously reached out and rested his fingers on her scarred cheek, “I..I’m sorry I was angry with you at Hogwarts.” 

“I don’t blame you.” 

“Do you think Malfoy is serious about letting me have time with you regularly?” 

Forsythia sat back from him, her brow furrowed, “You..you can’t mean what I think you mean,” she said, eyes rapidly searching over his face while he kept his hand on her cheek.

“I never moved on from you, Thia. Some part of me always knew you’d come back.” 

Her body went cold and then hot and she stood quickly, “I don’t know if that will work.” It was too much to think about. She was bound to Draco and they were together, sort of. Even though they’d not yet broached that subject, it seemed like she was going behind his back if she promised Fred anything having to do with romantic relations. 

Fred’s expression was pleading as he stood, too, barely taller than she was, “At least as friends? He doesn’t have to share you in  _ that  _ way, but I..I miss you, Thia. More than I can explain.” 

For a moment, she felt a really deep sense of guilt and tried to push past it as she watched his face fall. 

  
“I-I understand, it’s been a really long time. I..I’ll just..” he said, chewing his lower lip and looking rather dejected. “No, I didn’t mean to make you think I didn’t want to be friends. Things with Draco are complicated because of the blood bond. I..I want to be friends, though,” she stammered. 

Fred didn’t look very convinced, but he nodded along, anyways. “Okay, well..since that’s sorted, then,” he said, shrugging and reaching for the back door again. He pushed it open and let her inside before he followed. He went left into the living room, and she couldn’t help but watch him go; too guilty to follow. 

She didn’t belong in his warm living room, surrounded by his family and friends. Forsythia, despite trying her best, was at the end of the day exactly what she was. As a Vampire she was destined to live her life only with her bonded humans or alone. As much as she wanted to be normal, for things to go back to the way they’d been before she was turned, she had to accept that normalcy was a luxury she couldn’t afford any longer. 

With a gulp that made her throat rub against itself sharply, she turned away from the living room and back towards the kitchen, instead. Draco was still there, she could feel him just around the corner. So, she went to him. 

He was deep in conversation with Remus and Harry across the room from where she’d left him, but the moment she stepped back into the kitchen, he met her eyes and quit talking abruptly. 

She stalked back to him, resting her hip sideways against his shoulder as he reached for her, “Alright?” he asked, wrapping his arm behind her legs and resting his hand on her thigh. She nodded, “Yep. What are you lot talking about then?” she asked, shoving her emotions from her conversation with Fred away. There was no reason to be upset, they’d agreed to be friends and she had no reason to feel guilty for that. It was all they could be. 

“We were matching our stories from the battle up to fill in the gaps,” Harry said, adjusting his glasses before sitting back, “We actually were just finishing up. Remus was getting ready to leave.” She looked over at Professor Lupin, her expression cautious as she cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“I’m glad that you are alright,” he said, sounding strained as he inclined his head to her. “I’m glad you are. I..I’m so, so-,” he cut her off with a wave of his hand, “Not to worry. As much as it was disturbing, I am in one piece and a new father who should get his partner and himself back to their child. Best not to discuss the past when we’ve just lived through it.” he said, meeting her eyes with a warmer expression. Forsythia could only watch him quietly as he rose and disappeared into the living room. 

“I didn’t know he’d had a child,” Forsythia breathed, reaching for Draco as the guilt threatened to consume her again. He patted her hand sympathetically, “I said in the interrogation room that I’d send word to his wife and son to start funeral arrangements. It was sick, but I hoped he’d understand that meant I’d let them know he was alive.” 

“No matter,” Harry interjected, “it’s done now. Over. He and Sirius can get back to Teddy and live proper lives now.” 

Forsythia and Draco shared a look before they both looked at Harry, “He and  _ Sirius _ ?” Forsythia asked, feeling very out of the loop. Of course, she didn’t care if they were together, but it would have been nice to know from one of them first. 

“He and Sirius. For years, now, since before I was even born.” Harry seemed to be used to explaining the situation, and when he fiercely asked if it was a problem both she and Draco spoke over each other saying they didn’t have any issues. 

“Good. Brilliant,” he said, “glad we’re all on the same page about it then.” He was right back to his usual cheerful self. 

She, Draco, and Harry sat in a very comfortable silence for a moment before Harry rose, too. 

“Thank you both for everything. I’m glad we unknowingly had you on our side,” he said, holding his hand out to Draco and then patting Forsythia on the shoulder once they shook. “Sirius mentioned wanting to say goodbye to you when you leave. I doubt Remus has gotten him away from everyone quite yet.” he said, grinning before he, like Professor Lupin, disappeared into the living room where it seemed the rest of the Weasley family and the other guests had also migrated. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Draco asked. She nodded, resting her hand on his shoulder and asking if he wanted to go back home. Despite her best efforts, it was starting to get hard being around so many humans at once. Deep down, she knew she wouldn’t hurt anybody but it felt like her ability to function under the stress was wearing thin. 

“Oh, about that,” he said, biting his lip. “I was wondering if I might take you somewhere else, first.” 

“Where?”

“Just to my family’s manor. I have something I need to pick up, and so you can meet my mother, Narcissa, properly.” 

Forsythia shivered, “Uh..I think that would be okay,” she said, “as long as you stay with me.” 

“Are you getting overwhelmed?”

“A little.” 

He squeezed her thigh, “I’ll keep it short.” 


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> only two chapters left. please see the note at the end of this chapter for some warnings for the last chapters.

It was a tearful goodbye with the Weasley’s, Harry, Hermione, and Sirius, who took her aside for a moment. 

“Doing alright?” He asked, keeping a light hand on her shoulder. She nodded, wiping her eyes and swallowing thickly, “Y-Yeah, it’s just overwhelming being around so many people at once. I’m happy that we all made it.” 

Sirius smiled, his teeth gleaming, “I wish I could have seen you grow up. Like with Harry, I’m very sorry I missed out on so much.” 

“Don’t be sorry. Believe me, you didn’t miss much, if I’m honest.” 

“I appreciate that, Forsythia, very much. Hopefully we can keep in touch now? You’ll always be welcome at Grimmauld Place, of course. You are a Black, after all.” 

Forsythia gave him a watery grin, “Thank you, Sirius. I’d love to keep in touch. As overwhelming as this many people are, I need to get used to being around everyone again. Can’t hide in the dark forever, right?” His expression fell, and his hand tightened on her. 

“No, there’s no reason to hide in the dark any longer.” 

There was something in his eyes that made her wonder if he was trying to tell her more than he was saying. “You and Remus have a son, then?” She asked, trying to lighten the sudden tension. 

“Yes, Teddy. You’ll have to meet him, he’s exactly like Remus in every way. Got my eyes, though.” That made him look very proud. 

Feeling a little awkward, Forsythia asked, “How did that happen?” She thought maybe they’d used a surrogate of sorts, or adopted, but if both men were reflected in the child that was something she’d never heard of being possible before. 

“We adopted him from an orphanage in Bulgaria. Little monkey is a metamorphmagus and now that he’s three he has some control over it. He seems to be very pleased looking like us both.” Ah. That made more sense. 

“Oh, well that’s really wonderful. I’m glad that you two have a family.” It sounded lame, but she had to brush her tears away again. Sirius opened his arms for her and she hugged him again. “I’ll send you an owl in the coming weeks, alright? We can plan lunch or something.” 

“As long as I’m not on the menu.” He joked easily, squeezing her again before letting her go and taking her back to where Draco was waiting at the back door for her. 

They walked together, hands clasped, out past the Weasley’s back gate. Once they were a few feet down the lane, Draco turned them on the spot. 

They landed on the wide entryway of a very large manor, though in her own opinion she thought it looked more like a small castle. Draco, seemingly very at ease, led her through the marble entryway and into a drawing room off the main hallway. 

“Draco!” 

The same woman from the battle stood from a chair near the fire, her eyes wide and full of tears. She was wearing all black, a scrap of white lace clutched in her hand. The dress she wore went down to her ankles, and Forsythia wondered if she was also wearing a corset. How traditional. Her scent reminded her of Draco; it was all warm woods and fresh rain. 

He dropped Forsythia’s hand and went to his mother, hugging her tightly and relaxing into her embrace. Forsythia felt rather out of place until his mother lifted her head and met her eyes.

“You must be Forsythia,” she said, dabbing at her eyes and patting Draco as she pulled away and approached her instead. Her expression was cautious as she slowed a few feet in front of her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Malfoy” she said, nodding and trying to not move too quickly. 

“Please, darling, just Narcissa. I need to thank you for taking care of my son. If he’d not had you at his side I know he’d not be..he would have…” her shoulders shuddered as she trailed off. Forsythia couldn’t help but smile, “Ah, give him more credit, he’s an incredible wizard,” she said, meeting Draco’s eyes over his mother’s shoulder. 

“Be that as it may, I owe you a great debt, a debt I can never actually repay. My only way of attempting so is to give you my blessing,” she said, reaching back for Draco. He moved forward instantly, allowing her to take his hand. Cautious, still, his mother held her hand out for Forsythia, too. Forsythia let her take her hand and then his mother brought their two hands together, “Draco is everything to me. I know that you two will protect each other, and for that, there is nothing greater that I can give you as his mother.” 

Forsythia glanced up at Draco, confused, but he was beaming at his mother, “I love you,” he said to her, leaning down and hugging her again while he took Forsythia's hand. It was the first time she’d ever heard him say that. 

His mother held him tightly before she scowled at him, “Now, don’t go getting any ideas about not visiting me. The manor still is yours by birthright, and if you want to move back in I won’t have any qualms-,” Draco laughed at her, pulling Forsythia into his side and shaking his head, “Again with trying to get me to move back. I rather like the rowhouse. Maybe someday, though,” he said, then added quickly, “I actually wanted to grab something from my bedroom if that’s alright.”

“Everything here is yours, you can do as you please with it.” 

Draco kissed his mother’s cheek before she walked them both out to the main staircase. “Come see me before you leave,” she called as Draco led Forsythia up the stairs. He called back that he would, and then they were alone again. 

Most of the manor was dark, and even with her enhanced vision parts of it were too shadowed to tell what was there. Draco took her down a long corridor on their left at the top of the stairs and then stopped outside a room that had a silver D glinting in the low light attached to its front, “I promised to be quick,” he said, grinning as he threw the door open. 

Forsythia peered inside, surprised at how untidy it was. She squinted into the dark until Draco waved his wand and a brilliant chandelier above them blinked to life. The candles set within it burned with a soft green light. 

There was a four poster bed set against the far wall, its green and silver hangings pulled back and pillows still a mess as if he’d just slept in it the night previous. On the wall adjacent to his bed, was a desk littered with old school books, loose parchment, and quills. In the corner, a black Nimbus 2001. 

The walls were plastered with posters of quidditch teams and both wizard and muggle musicians. The only reason she could tell them apart was because the muggle bands didn’t move in their posters the way the wizard ones did. 

“I haven’t been here in a year,” Draco said fondly. Forsythia nodded, “Yeah, I can tell,” she said, grinning when he snorted at her. “There was just one thing I wanted to grab while we were here,” he said, pulling open one of his desk drawers and rifling through it before he pulled out an otherwise unassuming paper box. 

“I got these a really long time ago, inherited it, actually, and I never knew what to do with it until now.” he said, tucking the box into his back pocket before he returned to her. With a wave of his wand, the chandelier extinguished itself. 

Forsythia, puzzled, let him lead her back out into the hall and then down to the drawing room where his mother sat gazing into the fire. “We’re going to leave now, but I swear I’ll come visit you soon.” 

She reached for him again, and held him to her before patting his cheek, “Good lad. It was lovely meeting you, Forsythia. Of course you are welcome here anytime, as well,” she said. Forsythia inclined her head, hoping she was being as respectful as possible, as she thanked her. 

Draco took her back out into the inky darkness and across the half frozen lawn where several white peacocks were wandering around in the grass. “Peacocks?” she asked him, confused. He chuckled, “My father was always one for aesthetics,” he said without any further explanation. He stopped them as they reached a hedgerow that was twice as tall as him, “Ready to go home?”

Forsythia looked at him, mesmerized for a moment by the liquid silver of his eyes before she nodded, “Yes, please.” His eyes flashed, and then the crushing darkness of apparition enclosed around her. 

Draco had apparated them directly into his room. He slowly pushed on her shoulders until she sat down blindly onto his bed, and then his lips were on hers and it felt like the first time again. 

Her stomach squeezed and she pushed her fingers back into his hair and pulled him with her as she lay back. “Eager?” He asked, chuckling as he pulled away and stood once more. 

“I have something for you first,” he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out the little paper box. 

“Ah the inherited box,” she said, grinning. He nodded, then shook his head, “Well, yes the box, but mostly what’s  _ in  _ the box.” 

For a moment they just looked at each other before Draco took the top off and held it down so she could see inside. 

Nestled between layers of meticulously folded brown paper was a pair of gold rings. Confusion filled her and when she looked back up at Draco he was pointedly looking away from her. “What…” she couldn’t find the right words. What exactly did this mean? 

“It’s not..uh, not like a proper proposal or anything like that, but, I do want you to..wear one. I’ll wear the other, if you’d like.” 

“Is this you or the bond?” 

“There’s no difference anymore.” 

“You or the bond?” 

“Me.” 

Forsythia stared up at him in disbelief. The longer she was silent the more anxious Draco looked. 

“You’re  _ not  _ proposing?” She asked, trying to clarify. Draco scowled, “As if I would propose with a ring that didn’t have a stone in it. This is just a placeholder.” He physically turned his nose up at her. 

“Think of it as a token of my affection and nothing more or less.” 

Forsythia held her hand up, “Go on then.” 

“You want to wear it?” 

She wiggled her hand at him, “If you do propose I expect something with a big stone, then.” 

Draco snorted, taking the smaller of the two rings and slipping it onto the fourth finger of her left hand. For a moment, Forsythia was disappointed because it felt a little too big, but once it sat on her finger for a few seconds it became rather warm and then hugged her snuggly.

“Oh,” she breathed, bringing it closer to her face to inspect. Before, it had been too far from her to see, but up close, scrawled in a very pretty script, were the words “ _ Longissimus dies ad extrema ero tecum”.  _

“What does it mean?” She asked, looking up in time to see Draco slip the larger ring onto his left hand, too. He shrugged, “Something like ‘I will be with you to the end of the longest day’. At least I think that’s what it is.” 

“That’s incredibly romantic, are you sure you’re not proposing?” She teased. He snorted again and caught her chin between his fingers, “Don’t tempt me,” he warned, his eyebrows raised in amusement as she melted into his touch. For a moment, she thought he was going to say more, but then he relaxed and grinned down at her instead. 

“Ah, don’t tell me you got your hopes up?” He prompted. She shook her head, “You’re already bonded to me for life, what more could I want?” He smirked, “Maybe it’s what  _ I  _ want, then?” 

“What  _ do  _ you want?” 

“For you to lay back and give me the immense pleasure of making you scream my name.” 

“Very funny. I’m being serious, what do you want?” 

Draco raised an eyebrow, sighed, and thought for a long time. So long, in fact, that Forsythia was worried she’d crossed some unspoken boundary. As the minutes ticked by her anxiety grew until she was chewing on her lip and wringing her hands together. 

“I think,” he started, eyes still locked somewhere off in the distance, “I would like to have time with you where there is no weight of other obligations to dictate how that time is spent. No expectations and nobody coming around to bother us about what we’re doing.” 

“You want to spend time with me?” 

“I’d like to..start over, if that’s possible.” 

She scoffed at him, her anxiety tipping into agitation, “You’ve essentially just given me a promise ring, we’ve had sex, we’ve done..done so many things already and you want to  _ start over _ ?” 

Unperturbed, Draco nodded, “Oh yes, I think that’s exactly what we should do. I’ve never taken you out properly or had to do any amount of work to give you a reason to want to be with me. Courting is a very important thing to me.” 

“Oh.” It felt like her entire body had been thrown into the black lake. Did she have a reason to be with him? There was of course the trust she had in him, had had to gain in him given the circumstances. So, she trusted him. There were also all of the various times he’d been kind to her when he didn’t have to be. Then again, he’d also been cruel, as well. 

Sitting back, she properly looked at him through this new lense. His angular features were still reminiscent of Greek statues, and the scars that broke up his otherwise flawless face were, now, quite menacing. The way his eyes slid over her was possessive and predatory in the same way a Dragon looked over its hoard. Was she really his hoard, or just his whore? 

Forsythia did not usually use such strong language in general, and certainly not towards herself. That, though, seemed to fit. She was at his beck and call, even if it had been the work of the mastering charm. With it seemingly gone from them, though, there wasn’t a reason to stick around other than the bond. 

Not to mention the fact that in the week since Voldemort’s defeat they’d shagged nearly every day, and twice on some days. What other word was there for her? 

“So you want to go on dates, then?” 

“Yes. Obviously we can’t go back on most of the things we’ve already done, but I’d like to treat and court you properly if you’ll allow me the chance.” 

“What does that mean?” 

That made him smirk, and he rested both of his hands on her shoulders gently, “We never talked about what it would be like after he was defeated. I’d like to find that out with you.” 

“So,” he continued, “my first declaration of my affections for you was the ring. My second, is set to arrive tomorrow morning at nine. Will you be alright if we have company?” 

That perked her up, “Company?” 

Draco’s smirk slid into a smile, and his cheeks turned pink, “I’m rather excited. I think this is possibly the nicest thing I’ve done for anyone ever.”

“Who is it?” Her mind raced through the faces of people he might have invited: Sirius, Harry, Hermione, and Fred stuck out more brightly than some of the other people that flitted through her mind. 

“That’s a surprise. Now, given our conversation do you think it’s proper to sleep in my bed?” 

Forsythia pouted, shrugging, “I don’t have much experience to go off of. What would you do if we’d just met.” 

“As much as I would love to keep you here to myself, I believe the respectable thing to do, as the head of the noble house of Malfoy should, would be to walk you to your room and give you a very chaste kiss goodnight.” 

“You? Chaste?” 

“Do you doubt my abilities?” 

Despite still being rather pouty and also insecure in her feelings about him, Forsythia allowed him to take her hand and lead her directly across the hall to her closed bedroom door. 

“Well, my love, have a good night.” 

He caught her chin and tipped her face up to his, barely brushing his lips against hers before he released her hand. “You, too,” she breathed back, fighting her own immediate instinct to pull him in with her. It was just the bond, she told herself, and the fact that they had grown so close. She watched him turn back to his room, the door snapping closed behind him, and sighed. 

She knew in that moment she’d never leave him even though she could get away with putting at least some space between them. She didn’t want him to be more than a hallway away ever again, if she could help it. So much for ever escaping. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said above, we're almost done! As a heads up, chapters 24 and 25 grow incredibly dark. Please heed the fic warnings and if explicit death or suicide type things bother you, it's probably better to end your reading here.


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter marks our dark descent into the end of this story. This could be upsetting for some people, so reader discretion is advised.

They were about to leave for an early breakfast down in the local village Draco had planned the next morning when a large, tawny owl fluttered in through the open kitchen window. It dropped a heavy envelope onto the counter and was gone in another sweep of its great wings. Forsythia watched, curious as Draco lifted it and then went stiff, “It’s addressed to you.” 

Inside, was a summons to the Ministry of Magic. The letter read: 

_ To Ms. Forsythia Juliet Black,  _

_ You are hereby being summoned to appear before the head of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Althea-Mae Greengrass, on the evening of the fourteenth at eight o’clock. You are to bring your wand and any other magical artifacts you are illegally holding. To enter the ministry, you will enter through the Visitors Entrance where you will be received by representatives from the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. If you do not have a face covering, one will be provided for you.  _

_ Please fill out the enclosed documents and bring them to your hearing. You are encouraged to be as detailed and thorough as possible in your responses. Your charges are as follow:  _

  * _Conspiracy against the Ministry of Magic, class A._


  * Consorting with dark wizards, known as Death Eaters, class A. 


  * Aiding in the illegal extraction of information, class A. 


  * Using one or more illegal curses, class A. 


  * Murder of a non-magical person or persons, class B. 


  * Illegal feeding or bloodletting on a non-magical, non-consenting adult, class A, class B, and class C. 


  * Failure to register new or changed Vampire status, class B. 


  * Failure to present a wand once Vampire status was registered, class A. 


  * Failure to notify of change of address, class C. 


  * Attempted murder of magical person or persons, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A.


  * Murder of magical person or persons, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class A, class B. 


  * Attempted murder of ministry official or officials, class A, class B. 


  * Littering, class D 



  
  


_ Wishing you a splendid day,  _

_ James D. Copper _

_ Undersecretary to Althea-Mae Greengrass, Head of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures _

  
  


Forsythia felt like she might be sick as she leaned heavily into the counter. “I guess it was inevitable, wasn’t it?” Draco asked, sounding as shell shocked as she felt. As her stomach rolled dangerously, Forsythia nodded, unable to speak as her hands began to shake. They were going to break her wand in half and she’d never use magic again. Worse, based on everything listed they’d probably chuck her into Azkaban without a second thought. 

“Come here, darling,” Draco sighed, taking her shoulders and leading her straight into his chest where he squeezed her gently and rested his chin on the top of her head. He patted her back, rubbing circles around it as her chest heaved through several breaths. The shaking and intense dread that kept washing through her in waves made her too dizzy to remain standing, and Draco quickly caught her when she started to sway. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy. Thia? Shit,” he swore, catching her knees under his forearm and hauling her up into his arms before apparating them into her room where he sat her down on the bed. He stayed at her knees, one arm wrapped around both of them and rested sideways against her while he kept his other hand gentle on her cheek. 

When the tears started dripping off her chin, he thumbed them away and waited patiently until she ran out. Lip still trembling, she whispered that she was sorry. 

“Sorry? What for?”

“Crying.” 

“You just found out you’ve got to meet with the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures where they’ll treat you like you’re an animal and take your wand from you. I’m surprised you’re not screaming and destroying the house in a blind rage.” 

Startled, she winced, lips clamping shut again to keep from being sick. Crying was bad enough, the last thing she wanted to do was have him hold her hair back as she threw up. He gave her a pained frown, “Maybe there’s something we can do. You were away from wizards for years, maybe we can leave your wand here and say you lost it at some point.” he offered, brightening hopefully when she gave him a cautious nod. Would that work?

“If they try to summon it, though...well, maybe if we transfigure it into the knife. Then, technically it wouldn’t be just a  _ wand _ and they certainly don’t know that you keep it transfigured. We just won’t say anything about it.”

“You..you’re going to come with me?”

It was his turn to look startled, “Did you not want me to?”

“No, yes, I do. I..I need you to be there to make sure I don’t..that they don’t..” she shuddered at the thought of her going in alone and then never seeing him again. Would they even let her say goodbye if they did imprison her?

“Are you allowed to come there with me?” she asked, suddenly terrified he’d be arrested, too. Draco nodded, hopeful again, “I got a letter several nights ago after we, er, made love. I’ve been cleared without needing trial thanks to Potter’s personal request.” 

“Harry’s a good man.” Was he, though, if he’d only requested Draco’s freedom and not her own? Harry was so kind to her, was it all a farce? 

“Indeed. Anyways, me showing up may ruffle a few feathers, but I do so love ruffling feathers.” 

At eight forty-five, Draco asked if she wanted to get ready for their house guest, and Forsythia asked him how she should dress. If it was just Fred or Hermione she wouldn’t mind looking less than put together but if it was Sirius or Narcissa she wanted to look presentable. 

“Casual.” He wouldn’t tell her anything else, so she got dressed in silence while he pointedly looked away from her. Right at nine, there was a clanging as the doorbell rang. 

Draco took her down stairs, his hand soft in hers as he led her down to the sitting room. Somebody was standing at the fireplace, facing away from them. They had short blonde hair, and were rather short themself. At the sound of them entering, they turned. 

Forsythia froze, her entire body going cold as she met the hazel eyes she’d been seeing in her memories for months. Her breath left her, and she and Bernadette stared at each other for several seconds before Draco broke the silence. 

“I’ll have Hisky bring you some tea.” 

Forsythia jerked to watch him leave the room, and when she looked back to Bernadette, she was crying. 

“Oh my lord.” 

“Hi.” 

Bernadette covered her mouth, looking over Forsythia desperately, “It’s really you.” 

“It’s really me.” 

Forsythia took a hesitant step forward, searching Bernadette’s face for any sign of fear. She didn’t look afraid, but definitely shocked.

“When he said you were here, that you were  _ alive _ , I didn’t believe him.” 

“But you came anyway?” 

“I..I had to be sure.” 

Forsythia gestured down to herself, “I look a little different now, but I’m still the same.” She was trying to be earnest, though her voice sounded more pleading than anything. 

Bernadette nodded once, taking a deep breath then slowly letting it out. She smelled like roses and sweet morning dew. 

“Should we sit?” Forsythia asked, indicating the chairs she and Draco usually occupied. Bernadette sat, and when Forsythia moved to sit, too, she made sure to go extra slow. The literal last thing she wanted was for her friend to feel afraid of her. Was it okay that she still thought of her as a friend? Did she feel the same? 

Bernadette bit her lip before her eyes flashed mischievously. Hisky came in with tea, setting the tray down and then disappearing silently back to the kitchen, where Forsythia guessed Draco was sitting. Part of her hoped he was keeping an ear out in case she lost her mind and started to frenzy. 

“Draco Malfoy, huh?” Bernadette asked, sipping her tea. Forsythia snorted, “So it would seem.” 

“What happened, Thia?” She asked, mischief gone and face drawn with a sadness that made Forsythia ache. “I turned around to grab you and you were just..you were lying there and you were so pale.” 

The memory flashed against the backs of her eyes, and Forsythia suppressed a shudder. “I didn’t move fast enough. It wasn’t her fault, though. There was too much blood and she couldn’t tell who was who.” 

“She almost killed you.” 

“I think technically she did kill me. But I’m still in one piece for the most part.” 

“For the most part?” 

She wanted to spare Bernadette the horrible memories, to not tell her who she’d become in their time apart. Who she’d been forced to become. 

“I, er, heard you helped the Order of the Phoenix?” 

Forsythia nodded, “Yes, sort of indirectly.” 

“Are you alright?” 

With a shrug, Forsythia said, as gently as she could, “I had to do things I didn’t want to. Now, because of those things, the ministry’s called me in for a hearing.” 

“Surely they’ll treat you fairly. You only did what you had to do.” 

She snorted, “I don’t know that they’ll see it that way, but I hope so. If they send me to..to Azkaban I don’t think I’ll survive.” 

Bernadette went very pale, her face twisting into a grimace at the thought. “They’ll have to believe you, Thia. They have to. Look at your face, for god sake, how can they say you wanted  _ that _ ?” 

At the mention of the scars, Forsythia winced, “Uh, actually that was my own doing. They made me wear this mask over my face,” she mimed how it covered her from her nose to down under her chin, “and if I tried to bite it or anything while it was on it would shock the hell out of me. I’m a little embarrassed to say this, but I used the shock. It kept me sane, in a way.” 

Bernadette had slowly grown more and more green the longer she spoke. “You resorted to hurting yourself to stay sane?” She choked, her eyes brimming with tears. 

Forsythia nodded, “I did what I had to do.” Bernadette stood suddenly, and Forsythia held her breath as she stood too and allowed her friend to wrap her arms around her. Bernadette was crying against her shoulder, saying she was sorry for not grabbing her in the Leaky Cauldron. 

“It’s okay, I’m okay, it’s all over, Bernadette,” she replied, feeling her body start to warm now that her friend was closer. It felt like parts of her heart that previously were broken were healing, and she and Bernadette stayed wrapped around each other in front of the fire for almost twenty minutes. 

“I have p-pictures for you. I brought them from your-your memorial. Nicked them, actually.” Forsythia let out a shaky laugh, standing back so she could pull the photos out. The first one was of the two of them by the Black Lake, their arms around each other while they laughed and waved at the camera. It had been taken a few weeks before she was attacked. 

The next was the photo she’d remembered when she’d been with Harry, Ron, and Hermione. A very young, handsome looking Sirius held a two year old on his hip, conjuring little birds while the toddler squealed and tried to grab at them. 

After that, a photo that had been taken in their dorm room. It was darker, and she had to squint to recognize herself sitting against the glass wall of the common room, her hand stretching up as the giant squid floated past. Just on the edge of the photo, a bright blonde boy leaned in and out of view, laughing at something going on out of the shot. Her stomach fluttered. 

Last, the fourth one was just of her, sitting in a train compartment and looking out as the highlands rushed passed. Her school robes hung off her shoulders like she’d pushed them down but given up halfway through. Slowly, like she’d just realized somebody was there, she turned towards the camera and made a rude gesture but smiled good naturedly. 

“These were at my memorial?” She asked, still having a hard time imaging such a thing had been done for her. 

“Yep, and in the Prophet. I kept a copy of it, but didn’t think to bring it along. I can show you the next time I see you,” she said, handing the photos over and saying quietly, “These are yours, you should keep them.” 

“Thank you, Bernadette. I..I’ve really missed you a lot,” she said, hugging her friend again. Bernadette hugged her right back, “I have to get back to work, but send me an owl and I’ll come see you again, okay?” She breathed, squeezing Forsythia tightly to her. 

She walked her to the front door, watching from just inside as Bernadette walked down to the street and then turned to wave just before she disapparated. 

“Did you have a nice time?” Draco asked her once she returned to the sitting room. Forsythia nodded, “I..how am I supposed to thank you for that?” 

He shrugged, “You don’t have to do anything to thank me, besides it’s the least I can do.” Her anxiety about the hearing came back full force now that there weren’t any distractions, and despite the lingering happiness she felt from seeing Bernadette again, only hours later it felt like she’d never been happy in her life. 

They stayed in that night, even broke their new rule and shared her bed. It further comforted her, having his steady breath stir the hair at the back of her neck where he kept his lips pressed, even in sleep. 

“Thia..” she turned, thinking he’d woken but found his eyes shut and his face blank. His voice had barely been a whisper, and she wondered if he was dreaming of her. A few minutes later, he spoke again. “Hmm..so beautiful, Thia.” A heat went through her, and it took everything to stay still instead of pushing him onto his back and biting him while she sank down onto him. 

Draco shifted against her, nuzzling his lips against her neck and sighing again as he pulled her back tighter to him. She held still, refusing to breathe or blink or think as he settled again. What she would give to see what it was that was going on in his head. 

The fourteenth was spent much the same way the night of the Battle of Hogwarts was. If she wasn’t pacing, she was biting her nails. Draco watched her over the top of a book, his eyebrows furrowed with worry but silent. Hisky tried to help, too, offering to cut her hair again or simply sit with her, and as much as she wanted to spend time with the little elf, Forsythia kept shaking her head to every offer that was given. 

It took two hours to get through all of the paperwork the Ministry had sent to her. Most of it had her detail how and when she’d been turned and then what she’d been doing since then. It also had her list how many people she’d killed, and she was worried they wouldn’t believe that her count was only one outside of the Death Eaters at the battle. Draco seemed to think they’d let her explain the situation, and left it at one. Besides, their list of charges was so long she didn’t know how to argue against it. 

The day stretched after the paperwork was done, and Forsythia was a nervous wreck as soon as Draco apparated them from the back garden into a dark alley in the middle of London. She clung to him like a child, shrinking back into the shadows when a very loud group of men went past the mouth of the alley. He held her waist, leaning down to whisper that she was safe and they needed to get to the entrance. 

Still holding her, Draco walked them across the alley to a beat up looking red phone booth. It was a little bit of a squeeze for both of them to fit, but then Draco picked up the received and dialed 62442. A cool, female voice filled the booth, asking who they were and their purpose. 

“Draco Malfoy escorting Miss Black to her hearing with the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures with Althea-Mae Greengass.” He shifted the heavy envelope into his other hand so he could grab the two name badges that nearly shot onto the floor out of the coin return. Hers read “Forsythia Black, Vampire”, and Draco’s read, “Draco Malfoy, Vampire Escort.” 

“Rich,” she snapped, affixing the badge to the front of Draco’s old quidditch jumper. She noticed hers was not silver, and instead was made of wood. Thoughtful of them, she thought sarcastically to herself. There was a soft rattle, then the inside of the booth started to slowly descend under the street. It was pitch dark for a moment before a dim light filled the booth from the bottom up. 

They landed in the middle of a wide, nearly empty atrium. A massive fountain bubbled ahead of them, but she was too nervous to take it in. Two guards were waiting for them as the booth rested on the dark floor. They each had their wands drawn, their faces tense and drawn as Draco slid the booth door open and gestured for her to exit first. 

As soon as both of her feet had left the booth, the guards grabbed her. Forsythia screamed, writhing and trying to break free of their grip. It was no use, Draco was telling her to relax, that he was right there and to not struggle. Was this a trap? Was he turning her in? Something shot through her, a shocking hex, and then she was on her knees. 

Something hot was pressed against her face, and she recognized the intense smell of dragonhide. Once it was secure, the guards allowed Draco to help her stand, and his expression was murderous as he tucked her against his side. “Was that really necessary?” he snarled, keeping her tight to him. It wasn’t a trap, he wasn’t turning her in. It was an immense relief. 

“Yes, it is protocol to muzzle any Vampire who enters the Ministry. Surely, having worked with them, you understand why?” the guard on the left, a tall man with a thick mustache spoke to Draco only. 

He didn’t answer, and instead brushed his fingers against her arm as the guards took them across the room and up to some kind of set of gold scales. A young wizard with acne took Draco’s wand, put it onto the scales, then handed it back when the weighing was finished. 

“And where is the wand you were required to bring with you?” The mustached guard demanded on her. Forsythia shrank back from him, clinging tightly to Draco and too terrified of the aggressive man to speak to him. 

“She doesn’t have a wand. When she was processed at Oak Grove there wasn’t one found with her.” 

“We’ll have to see about that,” The other guard, a witch with shockingly violet eyes and an unnervingly lined mouth, snarled right back at him. Draco ignored her, instead stroking Forsythia’s arm again to calm her. They took her down past the weighing station and into a gold elevator. The same cool voice from the phone box filled the elevator after the guard pushed a button on the wall next to the door, “Floor Selected. Going down.” And down, they certainly went. 

Finally, after almost four minutes, the elevator clanged to a stop, and the woman’s voice said, “Level 6, Courtrooms and the Department of Mysteries.” The guards stepped out first, and then Draco slid his hand down into hers and guided her forwards. 

The hallway was cold, even for her. It seemed to take eons to finally make it to the very last door at the end of the seemingly endless hall. The further they’d gone, the colder it got, and Forsythia wondered how any of the humans around her were not shivering. 

The guards allowed Draco to accompany her only as far as that door, and they took her between them once more and pushed her through the door, alone. Forsythia almost started crying just at the loss of him. How was she supposed to get through any of this without him at her side? 

Her knees knocked together as the guards nearly dragged her forwards and into the circular room. All around her, starting at half-way up the wall, were rows and rows of benches. Every space was taken up by a witch or wizard in black silk robes. A chair waited for her in the middle of the room, thick chains hanging from its arms. 

She was reminded instantly of the interrogation rooms at Oak Grove. Though this room was not made from white stone, the chains were certainly the same. As soon as she was forced to sit, they came to life and anchored her down to the wood. She couldn’t help the cry that left her lips as the chains encircled her arms and ankles. 

“You have been ordered here today to stand trial for the crimes you’ve committed as a changed Vampire. Please state your name and age for the record.” A witch, sitting in the widest chair in front of where Forsythia sat, spoke down at the paperwork in front of her instead of at Forsythia herself. She guessed this was Althea-Mae Greengrass. Who else would be leading her hearing? 

For a moment, she couldn’t speak. She’d never hurt anybody beyond minimal feeding minus the time she’d accidentally killed a muggle when she was first turned and trying to starve herself. It wasn’t like she’d changed anybody or gone on a killing spree through the middle of London. She’d only ever done enough to survive. 

There were, of course, the charges brought to her because of her work with the Death Eaters, but surely they knew she didn’t  _ want  _ to be kidnapped by them? That was the first thing she’d tell them, right off the bat. She only did what she had to do. 

“Miss Black, you have to speak or you will be assumed guilty.” 

“M-My name is Forsythia Black and I’m twenty-three.” 

“Miss Black, I am asking for the age you were bitten at.” 

“Seventeen.” 

The witch glanced up at her and then paled, seemingly at the sight of her. “Remove the mask, I can barely understand the girl.” The snap in her tone made Forsythia jerk back and brace herself for impact. 

It never came, but the mustached guard approached her somewhat hesitantly before waving his wand in front of the mask. It melted away from her, uncovering her scarred face. She stretched her jaw and then her neck, trying to relive some of the built up tension. 

The response didn’t disappoint. Many of the witches and wizards who towered above her startled backwards in shock now that her face had been revealed. If she hadn’t before, now she certainly felt like an animal. The witch closest to her, eyes wide with shock, uttered something under her breath before she composed herself. 

“You have the  _ Arademus _ rune burned into your face. Why?”

“I used my first mask, muzzle, sorry. It would shock me whenever I tried to bite it. When I figured that out, and when I was under stress, I would shock myself with it.” 

“Why?”

“I deserved to be punished.” The words had slipped out before she could stop them. There was a low buzz of conversation amongst the spectators while the witch in front of her simply stared at her, seemingly in disbelief. 

“So, you burned the rune for obedience into your face. Who was your handler at Oak Grove?”

“Draco Malfoy.” 

Another low buzz of conversation filled the room, the voices echoing off of and against each other. The witch waited until silence fell once more before she spoke again, “And you know that Mr. Malfoy has been given a full pardon due to being an integral part of the Order of the Phoenix?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Do you think that pardon should be extended to you?”

Forsythia paused, chewing her lip and trying to force herself to think properly. If she was pardoned, maybe she could avoid time in Azkaban for all the crimes she’d had to commit. “I..I worked with Draco to make sure any of the people we interrogated were as unharmed as possible.” 

“Is that so? That’s how you describe what happened to say, Hannah Abbott, then?”

Very quickly, Forsythia lost every single nerve she’d gained. It was like she was back in the interrogation room, Hannah sitting in front of her bleeding to death while she screamed for her mother to save her. The blood was so heavy with fear and anger that it wasn’t even appetizing. She could feel her body trembling and slumping forward, but she had no control. She’d hurt Hannah, almost killed her. Surely for that, she deserved some kind of punishment. 

Did they not understand that the memory itself was punishment enough? Could they not see how she’d responded to just the poor girl’s name? Her chest was aching from how hard she was hyperventilating, her human muscle memory taking over completely as she hung her head and didn’t even try to calm herself. 

“Do you admit to trying to murder Hannah Abbott?”

She couldn’t speak. Hannah’s screaming was too loud in her ears, rushing through her like wind between her bones, like her skin wasn’t there holding them together. What if Hannah had died? What if Hermione had lied to her back in the tent just to get her to calm down? She needed Draco. She needed Draco. 

_ “Enough!”  _

His voice barely registered through all the screaming, and Forsythia realized with a painful stab in her throat that she was screaming, too. The chains fell away from her, and then he had her in his arms, his scent right in her nose as he locked her to him. 

  
“There will be order in my courtroom! Order!” The witch was shrieking over all the noise that had exploded at Draco’s arrival. He refused to leave her, snarling at any of the guards who came too close that she was clearly about to frenzy and to let him help for a moment until she could calm down. 

Her screaming slowed and then morphed in choked and broken sobs against his shoulder. “I know, Thia, it’s alright. You didn’t do anything more than I asked of you.” he whispered against her ear. Her fingers found the front of his robes and she clutched him there, her knuckles paling further and her palms aching where her nails bit through the fabric. 

“You say that you  _ ordered  _ her to attempt to murder Hannah Abbott?” The witch demanded, though Forsythia knew she wouldn’t be able to respond before Draco got himself in trouble. 

“Yes, I did. What do you think Lord Voldemort would have done if suddenly I refused to take  _ his  _ orders? Hannah lived, just like the others, and she only lived because Forsythia disobeyed my order to finish her.” 

Silence fell through the room. The only sound the broke was Forsythia’s ragged, though needless, breath. Draco was so sturdy under her, so sure, as he supported her against him close to his heart so she could hear it clearly. Did he know how it comforted her, or was it just a convenient position?

“You say she’s why my Hannah is alive?” The man’s voice was soft, unsure, and from somewhere far up in the highest benches. She felt Draco turn his head, and then he addressed whoever had spoken, “Yes, Bartholomew. Forsythia was a very unwilling participant in the bidding of Lord Voldemort in the same way I was. We did what we had to do to survive and then assist the resistance.” 

“Mr. Abbott, you will hold your tongue in my court. A Vampire, this Vampire, wounded and nearly killed nineteen witches and wizards. That does not even broach how many she killed during the Battle of Hogwarts.” The witch spoke again. Forsythia wanted to disappear, to sink to the floor and curl around herself and never move again. Draco held her up, though, even when he had to take most of her weight into his arms to keep her standing. 

“If she saved my daughter then I want all charges dropped.” 

“I, too, will drop any charges that have been brought to her.” A different voice, somebody more familiar spoke. Forsythia lifted her head just enough to see Kingsley Shacklebolt standing from his seat and addressing the witch with a steely expression. “Even when I slit her throat open, she remained peaceful.” His explanation caused a burst of excited chattering. 

The witch sounded exasperated when she demanded, “Justice must be served! Laws have been broken! What makes this girl any different from the other Vampires we’ve had sent to Azkaban since Oak Grove was raided?”

Forsythia forced herself not to listen, to focus on Draco’s heartbeat and count them instead of paying any attention to what was going on around her. It sounded like Kingsley was shouting, and the witch was shouting right back until the entire room was full of people fighting with each other. 

Draco tucked his hand around the back of her head and held her more tightly to him, whispering in her mind to hang on. “ _ Alright! _ That is  _ enough _ . Are you all trying to force my hand into pardoning the girl as well?” There was a resounding, intensely positive cheer from around the room. 

The witch sighed, and when Forsythia snuck a glance up at her, she looked pained as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “I cannot believe an entire courtroom of wizards have such a difficult time keeping themselves together and under control. Unfortunately, due to the severity of her charges I’m not able to let her off. It would set an unfair precedent that people who are in any way connected to Mr. Potter can do as they please and not as the law dictates!” She had to shout over the rising levels of noise. 

“The minimum sentence I can offer is thirty years. That is the best I can do within these circumstances!” 

The noise slowly melted away. Forsythia leaned harder into Draco’s chest, nuzzling her face against him and waiting for it all to be over. She was going to Azkaban. There would be no more Draco, no more rowhouse, no more Hisky. No Christmas at the Burrow or at Grimmauld Place. No Bernadette. No Harry. No Hermione. No Draco. 

No Draco. 

_ No Draco.  _


End file.
